Stray Cat Strut
by Skalidra
Summary: When Jason Todd stole the tires off the Batmobile, it wasn't Batman who caught him in the act, it was Catwoman. Selina is the mother Jason never had, and Jason is the talented student that Selina never knew she wanted. Plus, they're both into separate Bats, both of which are stubbornly uptight and unwilling to be seduced. - Dick/Jason. Prompt Fill.
1. An Unexpected Find

Yeah, this was definitely supposed to be yesterday. Anyway, I got sick and totally spaced the whole day so here you are. This is totally the first of my regular Friday updates. Promise. XD

So, this was an anonymous prompt, 'I wish you would write a fic where Jason Todd was taken in by Catwoman after she witnessed him steal the tires off the Batmobile. I know Catlad's the fave name of the fandom, but I'm a fan of Alleycat.' - I'm slowly working my way through these, they always expand into bigger than I expected them to be. Yes, this does have more, I just haven't started it yet. For now, have a set-up chapter with adorable tiny Jason.

 **Warnings** for: **referenced** underage sex, prostitution, and child abuse. None of it is graphic or mentioned in more than passing.

* * *

It's not a good idea, it's not a smart idea, I can't even call it a _dumb_ idea it's so ridiculously _stupid_ , but I can't resist it either. I'm hungry, I'm cold, I'm _tired_ , and it's just _sitting_ there.

The Batmobile. The fucking _Batmobile_ , and it's just sitting there in the alley.

I stare at it, glance down the alley in both directions and then up at the rooftops just to be safe, and then down at the tire iron in my hand. I _could_ do it. The Batmobile's got tires just like any other car, right? I bet they're top of the line, and I bet they'd sell for more than I could steal in a _month_. A slightly hysterical laugh threatens to get out of my mouth, and I clench my teeth together. Fight down a shiver as the cold steals through the thin fabric of the red shirt I'm wearing.

I could be the kid who stole the Batmobile's tires. I could get a _name_ or at least a little bit of _respect_. It could be worth it. I could eat real food for a few months, instead of whatever I can scrounge or steal. What's the worst that could happen?

Everyone knows Batman doesn't hurt kids; the worst would be what, juvie? Cops are easy to pay off if you've got the right — a shiver that's got nothing to do with cold shakes my shoulders — goods, and nobody wants to deal with Crime Alley street rats anyway. I'd never end up in the system, not even if Batman's the one to hand me in. The cops would rather just give me a beating, _pretend_ like they're going to drag me into a prison, and then let me go. Otherwise they have to deal with the hassle of finding anyone related to me, or trying to prosecute a minor, and none of them want to. Learned that from a few other street rats who taught me some survival tips my first few nights really on the streets.

Things are vicious on the streets, there's no such thing as _allies_ , but when someone new comes in you teach them for a bit. Then you get them the _fuck_ out of your territory, unless you're claiming them as working for you.

To hell with it. Batman's not going to _hurt_ me, and I'm sure I can throw together some kind of sob story for him if he's pissed. Or just tell him the truth; that gets me enough from some of the kinder shopkeepers around.

I start for the Batmobile, glancing around one more time before getting to work. I almost expect traps to activate — some kind of gas, or sharp things trying to sever my fingers, or _something_ — but nothing happens. The first tire comes off smoothly, and I set it to the side before starting on the second one. The tires are heavy, solid, and _definitely_ better quality than anything else that comes through here. These are going to get me a pretty good payout, even if I know the bastards will sell them for _way_ more than they offer me. Whatever; that's how business works.

"What are you doing, kid?"

I almost leap out of my damn skin, spinning and brandishing the tire iron because I am _not_ going down without a fight, before it registers that it's a female voice. That's a comfort for all of the half a second it takes for me to turn and see a tall, lean woman in a black and grey bodysuit watching me, hips cocked to the right and one hand resting on it. Also, right on the handle of the whip curled into neat loops and secured on that side of her hips. I swallow, following the lines of her costume up past a pretty good set of breasts and the metal glint of claws at the ends of her fingertips, up to the full-hood and built in ears standing up on top of her head. She's got a small, amused smile on her lips, green eyes just slightly narrowed.

 _Catwoman_.

I shift my grip on the tire iron, not lowering it. She's a villain, isn't she? Isn't she Batman's enemy? A thief? She's not going to beat the hell out of me for stealing his tires, right?

"What's it look like?" I hedge, trying for bravado as I bare my teeth, just a little bit. "This is _mine_. Go find your own target."

She moves closer, I bend my knees to either take off running or try and hurt her if she goes for me, and she stops. Her head tilts, and I think she looks curious but it's hard to really tell past the partial mask. "You know he's going to be back any minute, right, kid? You're never going to get this done in time."

The flush of embarrassment feels good against the cold, and I bring my lip a little higher to bare more of my teeth. "Why're _you_ here?" I demand, and her lips bloom into a sharp-edged smile.

"To give him a bit of a surprise when he gets back. Maybe have a friendly conversation." She takes one more step forward, and then slides into a crouch with a grace that widens my eyes and makes me _really_ jealous for a second. She looks comfortable there, perched on her toes, one leg stretched partway out like she's ready to bolt in any direction at a second's notice. "What's your name?" she asks.

I shift uneasily, waiting for the strike or for her to suddenly get really dangerous. "Jason," I answer, and then quietly follow it up with, "You're Catwoman."

Her mouth curls into a soft smile as she gives a laugh, matching my volume. "That's right, Jason."

"This is still mine," I point out, glancing sideways at the tire I've got leaning against the wall. "That's," I swallow, _hard_. "That's food for at least a week and I'm _not_ giving it up." My voice shakes a little bit, but I turn it into a snarl and try to look like _anything_ but the mouse she makes me feel like I am. I can't afford letting this go. I don't _have_ anything in the corner I call mine and if I don't eat, if I don't get _something_ …

"I'm not going to take it," she says softly. "It's alright, sweetheart, I'm not here to stop you. But you shouldn't stay here much longer, he really _will_ be back soon." I glance over at the tire again, and then down at the second one that's not quite undone. I freeze up a little bit when she slowly reaches forward, barely breathing and expecting her to slice my skin open, to _hurt_ me, until her hand touches my cheek. "Would you like to come home with me, Jason?"

Then I really _do_ freeze, snarl falling as I stare at her. " _What?_ "

Her gloved hand strokes back across my face, carefully combing my hair away from my face. "It's a place to sleep, a bath, and good food. You don't have to say yes, and you don't have to stay even if you do say yes. Promise." Her smile is small, and she _has_ to be lying because no one offers a _street rat_ a place to stay, but I can't see it. I can't…

"Why?" I ask, fighting down hope because this _can't_ be real. "This isn't one of those weird 'into young boys' things is it? I mean, if you're going to pay me enough I might go for that but I like to know what I'm getting into up front."

She laughs, eyes closing for a moment, and then her hand slides down my neck and gently squeezes my shoulder. "No, sweetheart, no. My type is a whole lot bigger, older, and much more handsome. Maybe you'll meet him someday." Her smile is wide, green eyes alight and sparkling with the leftover of her laughter. "It takes guts to steal from Batman, and I've got a bit of a soft spot for strays with spirit. Stay a night or two, to repay you for interrupting your work." She squeezes my shoulder again, just for a second. "One thief to another."

That… That sounds _way_ past fair. That sounds like a _dream_. I didn't slip and hit my head somewhere, right? This isn't some kind of fever dream I'm having? Is this _real?_

"Are you serious?" I ask, my voice cracking just a little bit. "You know this is Crime Alley, right? I'm a _street rat_. Why are you offering that?"

She ducks in, and before I can do more than jerk a bit she's pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then smiling as she pulls back and I _stare_. "With those teeth? You look more like a cat than a rat to me, Jason." She lets go, unfolding back to standing with that same totally jealousy-inducing grace, smiling down at me. "Come on, stray. If you're coming, we need to go."

"I— The _car?_ "

Her smile flicks to a smirk for just a second, and she sounds straight out _mischievous_ when she says, "Let's just make him paranoid for a few weeks." She holds out her hand to me, head tilting to one side.

I hesitate, considering all the reasons this is probably a bad idea. She's a villain, she's a liar, she can't be trusted any more than _anyone_ else. There are always ulterior motives, no one ever helps just _because_. I don't know what hers are and that's dangerous, it's not _safe_. For all I know she could kill me the second I'm back wherever she lives. Maybe this _is_ one of those weird 'likes young boys' things. Maybe… Maybe it's just a good meal and a place to sleep.

I let the tire iron fall and reach out to take her hand.

* * *

Catwoman is actually 'Selina,' and the place she lives is… _Jesus_. It's a high-rise apartment, with huge windows and at least five cats wandering around, and everything is soft and comfortable. She does usher me pretty much straight into the bathroom, where she gives me a brief tutorial on which knobs are which things, points me towards the towels, the laundry hamper, and the soaps that are less flowery smelling, and then — to my utter surprise — just leaves me alone.

The bath is _heaven_. It's hot, clean, and doesn't smell faintly like sulfur or anything less pleasant like I've gotten used to. I stay in the water, scrubbing with various things until I feel a little raw, and only get out when my fingers are well past pruned. The towel is soft, fluffy, and I dry off as best I can before looking at the hamper that I threw my clothes into and wincing. I don't have anything else, but…

I'd forgotten what it felt like to be _clean_ , and I don't want to get back into those. I don't have to, right?

There's a knock on the door, and I spin towards it in a second of alarm — the only times I can remember, recently, hearing people knock were the police — before forcing myself to ease out. "Yeah?" I call, gathering the towel around my shoulders. It's big enough that it almost touches the floor, and more than securely wraps around everything I want to hide. My parts, and the bruises that weren't going to scrub away no matter what.

The door slowly opens, and Selina glances around the edge of it enough to see me before opening it the rest of the way. She's out of the Catwoman suit, dressed in what I think might be a _silk_ robe in a dark grey that's tied at her waist. Her hair is short and black, curled around her face and close to her skull. "So, I don't have anything in your size, but I figure this is big enough it'll do for now." She holds out what I think is another robe, moving a little closer and within reach.

I carefully extract a hand from within my towel to touch the robe. It's soft, fluffy almost like the towel, with a folded over collar and cuffs, and it's kinda huge. It's also a very dark green, and I can tell at a glance it'll be more like a blanket than any kind of actual clothing. But at least it's got a belt that I can pull out of the loops to be where it'll actually be useful. I can make it work.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, before I can stop myself.

Selina — Catwoman; I don't know what to _call_ her even in my own head — crouches down, letting the robe she's offering fall to the side as she reaches forward with her other hand and gently touches the side of my head. Her fingers slide through my damp hair, and then she shifts a little closer and drops the robe. I see it coming before it happens, but I still stiffen up for a second as she gathers me, towel and all, into a hug. I stay that way for a second, mind on alert and thinking of _every_ way I could get out of this, before it actually clicks in that there's no pain, and her hands aren't going anywhere they shouldn't be.

Then I can't help relaxing into the touch, letting my head slip forward against her shoulder and my own shoulders curl forward into her.

"I _told_ you, honey," she says softly, into my ear. "I've got a soft spot for strays. Especially ones that still hiss and spit no matter how outmatched they are."

"You're taking the cat thing a little far," I grumble, but I don't want to leave the warmth of her hold. I carefully curl the hand out of the towels into her silk robe, pressing a little tighter into her, and I half-expect to get shoved or yanked away but it doesn't happen. Instead she gently strokes her hand through my damp hair, and gives a soft, reassuring noise.

"That's my right," she says, with a teasing note to her voice. "Come on, stray. Get bundled up in that, and I've got some food laid out and a _very_ comfortable couch. Does that sound good to you? Because it sounds like a _great_ way to spend a night to me."

"Just laying on a couch?" I ask, questioning, and she gives a soft laugh.

"Well, I've also got a TV and a collection of movies and shows." I can feel her chin against the side of my head as she presses closes, arms squeezing tighter for just a second. "You can pick out whatever you want." She lets me go, but not without a brush of lips to the center of my forehead. "I'll meet you outside."

I watch as she gets to her feet, holding the towel close until she softly closes the door behind her. Then I let it drop — giving a last futile scrub at my hair — and reach for the robe. It's pretty massive, and it drags on the ground, but after I pull the belt out and tie it further up it stays on. I hesitate a second, finally deciding to throw the towel in the hamper with my clothes, and then head for the door. It doesn't feel anything remotely like natural to step out onto soft carpet — how is _everything_ she owns soft? — with my arms wrapped around my own chest to keep the massive robe on. I'm not this high class of a thief; I'm down in the alleys with the tires and whatever I can get away with stealing out of stores. I'm not one of the thieves that breaks into houses like this.

I feel _so_ out of place.

I track the slight sounds of movement out to what, in my wildest dreams, might be called just a 'living room.' There's a fire lit, mostly blocked behind glass doors, and the light is dim and comfortable. Selina is crouched in front of a cabinet with similar glass doors, and across from the long, low couch is a similarly low table with a spread of food on it. Every bit of me screams to get to the food and eat as much as I can, as quickly as I can. The smarter bits hold me back though, and even though my stomach clenches and reminds me how long it's been since I ate I approach carefully instead of rushing.

Selina turns before I'm even halfway across the room, looking over her shoulder and then smiling, beckoning me closer. "Come pick something out, sweetheart."

I hesitate, glancing past her at the rows of slim cases. "I don't know movies," I admit, tightening my grip on myself just a little bit.

"Well, what genre sounds good? Science fiction, adventure, romance?" Her gaze slips to the food, following my glances, and then her smile softens a bit. "Go ahead, sweetheart. I'll pick something out."

With permission given — part of me snarls at needing permission at all; _I_ control me — I slip closer, eyeing the food. Most of it I recognize, at least sort of, but some things are totally foreign. There are two plates to the side, and with another glance at Selina, who's turned back to the open case, I start collecting food onto one of them. After a few moments she leans to the side, shifting her weight to get to a black box that I can sort-of recognize as a DVD player. My family… _I_ never had one, but I saw them in stores, or through the windows of other people's homes.

"It's romance," she says at my glance. "Complete fluff, so you don't have to pay attention."

I curl into the corner of the couch with my plate, watching her retrieve a remote and circle the low table to get to me. She gives another smile, and then takes the opposite corner of the couch. Something in me eases at that, and even more at the fact she just _knew_. I get distracted for a second as she clicks on the large screen that's hanging on the wall, and the sound with it, but it's not enough to keep my attention from the food I'm holding. I glance up, occasionally, through the first plate of food, and I keep half an ear on it, but not enough to actually follow whatever story it's playing.

Somehow — after I stop myself from getting a second plate, because even though I _want_ more, I know I can't handle that much — as the night progresses I end up closer to her. Finally, as I fight to keep my eyes open, I end up with my head in her lap, and her fingers running through my hair. It's not familiar, but it's comfortable, and she's soft just like everything she owns, and I'm warm and full. The movie finally ends — I've lost slices of it to closed eyes, but I wasn't following it anyway — and Selina shifts, clicking the screen off. I wake up a little more, but she doesn't seem to want me to move so I greedily take the time to relax.

I jump a bit when there's a flash of black movement, and a slight weight on the couch in front of me. My eyes snap open, and I still at a pair of golden eyes looking back at me, watching. It's a cat, and that shouldn't surprise me because hello, _Catwoman_ , but they've been pretty much invisible. I stare at it, as it stares at me, tail flicking lazily behind its head.

"Isis," Selina says quietly, gently stroking her hand through my hair, "this is Jason. Jason, this is Isis."

The cat glances up like it understands her, and then takes a step closer, stretching out. I stay very still as it sniffs at my face, glances up again, and then refocuses on me. Then it leans a little closer, and there's a flash of pink as it licks the tip of my nose. I screw my eyes up at the unexpectedly rough drag of it, and then my mouth curls into a smile I can't control as the cat, _Isis_ , steps back and firmly curls up in front of my chest. I cautiously reach up, lightly touching the slightly stiff fur, stroking down the cat's side, and get rewarded with a faint purr.

"She likes you," Selina comments softly, combing my hair away from my eyes. She starts to move, carefully sliding out from underneath my head, and I tilt my chin up and watch her. "I'll clean up and find you a blanket and pillow, sweetheart. Get some sleep; Isis will keep you safe."

"I— I don't need—"

"Hush," she says, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. "It's not about what you need, it's what I want to give you. Cats are selfish like that." My throat clenches up, and Isis stretches out a bit and gives a louder purr that makes me look down at her. "Get some sleep, little stray. You're safe here."

I don't mean to. I _really_ don't. But it's so warm, and comfortable, that I can't help it when my eyes slip closed, and the rhythmic purring of the cat at my chest lures me to sleep.

* * *

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Through the new clothes, and the regular meals, and the couch that's kind of become mine. Isis, when she's not off in her favorite sun spots or playing with the other cats, glues herself to my side. If I'm sitting down for even a few minutes, and she's not busy, she makes herself at home next to me, or on me. Selina is home more than I expect a thief with her kind of reputation to be; I guess it's a quality over quantity kind of job, for her.

I keep waiting for her to demand payment for what she's doing for me, but after a couple of weeks go by I start to relax. She's not asking for anything, hasn't even mentioned it, and she seems to like just having me around. Still, I start pocketing and hiding small things that look valuable, for the inevitable day she gets bored of playing savior to the street rat and kicks me back out. At least I've got new clothes, so when she does kick me out I'm a little better prepared. With the items I'm storing I might even be able to afford some kind of rent for a little while.

Things go pretty well, until the day she catches me.

I freeze at her laugh, hand halfway to my pocket around a pair of earrings, gaze snapping up to meet hers. I don't move either direction, just in case she didn't actually see me grab them, and she shakes her head. She doesn't _look_ mad, more like she thinks it's funny, and she's resting against the inside of the doorframe. It was probably a bad idea to try swiping anything in her bedroom. In fact I'm _sure_ it was.

"No, sweetheart," she says with a smile, slipping closer and reaching down to take the hand with the earrings in it.

I think about how fast I can bolt, and where the exits are. About how fast she is, and better skilled, and the _tiny_ chance that maybe I can outrun her in her own home. As she eases my hand open, and the earrings fall into her palm, I try not to think about how good things were here. It was just luxury, I can live without it. Have before, will again. This was nice, but obviously it's done now. I'll deal.

"Not like that," she reprimands, and I wince, waiting for the command to get out of her home. She turns my hand over, and sets the earrings in the middle of it. I stare at them, and then at her, not understanding. Her smile curls up a little more, and then she moves both hands and cups mine. "A fist is obvious, sweetheart. Here, see these muscles?" Her fingers push, manipulating my hand how she wants it. "These are strong enough to hold something small, _without_ curling your hand. When you palm something, use these to pick it up, not your fingers. Understand?"

I nod, slowly. "You're not kicking me out?" I ask, quietly.

She squeezes my hand. "Of course not, sweetheart. One thief to another, remember?" She leans in and down, kissing my forehead in a way I'm slowly starting to get used to. "I can teach you how to do what I can, if you want to know?"

My eyes widen, and then narrow. There _has_ to be something else to this, that's way too generous to be free. "What do you want in exchange?" I ask suspiciously.

She laughs, and lets go of my hand. "Put my things back where they were. _All_ of them. That's it, I promise. Training the next generation is in my best interest."

 _Oh._

"You want me to work with you," I say, not totally sure if it's a question or a statement.

Her eyes widen for a second, just a little bit, and then she tilts her head and sweeps her gaze down and back up my frame in a quick glance. "Not something I was thinking about," she admits, and I don't know if the tightness in my chest is disappointment or not. "But that's quite the idea." Her smile comes back full force. "Maybe a sidekick isn't such a bad idea."

I make a face before I can even think about it. "Sidekick?"

She laughs, eyes closing for a moment. "Not a fan of that word? How about 'protege?' That's what Batman calls Robin." Her hand comes up, and somehow I don't even _think_ about flinching away until it's already in my hair, pulling it back from my eyes. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

That… That could be _fun_. Even if I decide I don't like it, what's to lose? Catwoman, one of the best thieves out there, teaching me how to be like her? Even if I leave, or she eventually gets tired of me — everyone does — that's a lot of skill that I can put into staying alive. The downside is what, going up against Batman? Robin hasn't been seen in months, so it's _just_ Batman, and I already know Selina can handle him most of the time. She's not in prison, after all. If she _really_ just wants a 'protege,' why not say yes?

I can always leave.

"You want me to be your Robin?" I ask, making _sure_ , and I'm not expecting the high, clear laugh that bursts out of her throat.

She kneels down, pulling me into a hug. "Oh _sweetheart_ , we eat Robins and Bats for _breakfast_. You're a hunter, not prey." Then she's pulling back again, smiling with that mischievous edge, like she did back with the Batmobile. "How about you be my Stray, Jason? Capital S."

"Stray?" I test the word on my tongue, swallowing around it and trying to feel how it fits. "Do we have to use that name?" I realize it's practically a yes only _after_ I've asked it, and she pulls me into another hug. "I mean, it's _alright_ , but…" It hits a little close to home; especially my lack of any place I can call that. But maybe that's best. Maybe I _should_ keep it close, so I don't ever forget that this could vanish in a heartbeat. "I guess it works."

"When you turn eighteen," she starts, sounding like she's making a promise, "you can change your name to whatever you want. Now come on, let's go get started." She lets go, then takes my hand as she stands up. "We're going to buy you some heels."

" _What?_ " Heels? As in, actual _heels?_ Oh _fuck_ no.

"There is _no_ better way to teach you balance, sweetheart," she says with a smirk. "And if you're going to be a cat, you're going to have to learn to _always_ keep your feet. They'll help."

I watch her, my eyes narrowed. That makes _sense_ , but _heels?_ I'm a man, and heels are so… I'd get laughed out of Crime Alley. Or murdered. "No one sees them?" I have to sacrifice somewhere, right? Training isn't going to be _fun_ ; I'm not that stupid.

"Just you and me," she promises. "As soon as you know how to move, you never have to wear them again unless you want to." Like I'm going to _want_ to wear heels. "Sound like a deal to you?"

I make a face, but nod. "Deal."

* * *

Oh yeah, this might have taken hold in my mind. This is definitely going to turn into an aggressively flirtatious Jason, a startled Dick, and some mutual woes between Selina and Jason about trying to woo morally uptight/oblivious Bats. It should be pretty great. XD

See you Monday!


	2. Walk the Walk

I have a thing for you! THAT'S RIGHT, chapter 2 of Stray!Verse! ENJOY!

* * *

"This is such _bullshit_."

"Language," I murmur, taking a sip of my coffee and watching my new boy over the top of it. "You agreed, Jason."

Jason looks up with a glare, his arms braced against the end of the couch to balance. I can see his left leg shaking, his knee locked back, his hands nearly white-knuckled clutching the couch. "I'm going to _die_ ," he hisses, and like he's proving his point he shifts and then nearly falls over. Only his arms save him.

I give a soft laugh, and even though I keep it quiet he still winces. My heart hurts just a little bit at his reaction, at the flash of hurt I can see and then the instant wall that snaps up and blocks off the rest of his expression. It's not perfect, and I'm used to reading Bruce, so Jason's mask doesn't mean much to me, but it aches a bit to see it there at all. Jason is… I never thought he'd stay more than a couple of days — it was obvious that neither did he — but he's kind, smart, and he has this fire in him that just called to me. He has so much _spirit_ , even if he keeps yanking it back every time it shows.

I really do think he's absolutely adorable.

I lean to the side, setting my coffee on the table and then sliding off my couch. Jason straightens up a little bit as I walk towards him, the glare fading away to tense silence. "Alright, stay here for just a moment?"

And the glare is back. "Oh yeah, 'cause I can _totally_ just wander off in these damn things."

I lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I stroke my knuckles down the back of his neck. "I'll teach you," I promise. I glance down, at the heeled boots he's wearing. The heels are narrow, and tall, but they were never meant to be practical. They're here to teach him how to balance; then we can move on to much more fun things. I'm sure that he's going to love acrobatics, and the actual art of theft. I've already caught him reading the books on my shelves more than once; anything and everything seems to fall prey to his desire to read.

I head to my room and grab a set of my heels, stilettos that are roughly as thin and tall as the ones I got for him. Then I head back to Jason, and find him levering himself up onto the arm of the couch purely with his arms, twisting to sit on top of it. I smile, coming up next to him and nudging him over a bit so I can sit next to him. He watches as I slip my stilettos on, hooking the straps and then flexing each foot once to make sure they're secure.

"Come on, stand up with me." Jason winces again, but lets me slide my arm around his waist and help him get up to his feet. His legs almost immediately start shaking again, and he's very wobbly, but I keep him up.

"How do you all _do_ this?" he asks, sounding totally lost and maybe a little desperate. "I swear I'm gonna break an ankle or something."

"Yeah, that's the way it feels at first." I turn to face him, gripping his upper arm to hold him up as I sink down to a partial crouch. I reach my other hand up, lightly combing his hair back away from his face. "First of all, _relax_. If you're tense, you're stiff, and you need to be loose and fluid for this to work right." He looks really unconvinced, but he takes in a deep breath and then pushes it out again, a little bit of the tension draining away with it. "Better." I shift to his side, and lower my hand down from his hair to his leg. "Now you're locking your knees back, that's where a lot of your problems are coming from. Your legs don't need to be bent all the time, but with your knees back like this you can't adjust. Go on, I've got you."

He takes in another deep breath, and then slowly his knees unlock, sliding forward to a stance that's a lot more natural. He only shakes a little bit.

"Good. Now, you don't want to balance on your heels. If your footing is even a little unstable, you want to put your weight on your toes instead. It's just like being on tiptoe." I can see his weight shift, and then the sudden relief in his expression; he's almost not even leaning on me. "When you walk, you'll want to go heel to toe. If you do it right, you'll get that distinctive click-click sound with every step. Now, last bit…" I reach up with my free hand, touching his low back. "Heels are not practical or comfortable, because they were made for fashion. So, they are designed to make you stand a certain way. Here, curve your back a bit."

His back curves underneath my hand, hips tilting and his chest jutting forward a little bit. Then I raise my hand and tilt his chin up, to meet my eyes. "Better, sweetie?" He shifts a little bit, doesn't immediately fall over, and then gives a small nod. "Good, just remember those things whenever you don't feel balanced right. It will take some practice, but you'll get the hang of it, I promise."

"If you say so," he grumbles.

I lift my hand to comb his hair back again, and give him a smile. "I do. Try a few steps, sweetie, I'll make us some food." He winces as I push myself back up to standing. I get a low grumble for ruffling his hair, before I lean down and kiss his forehead again. "If you get to the kitchen in time, I'll even let you pick what I make."

His head snaps up towards me, and his expression goes from surprised, to hopeful, to irritated. "That's cheating."

I step away from him, going to retrieve my coffee. "Bribery is a normal way to motivate someone," I point out, smiling as I pass back by him. "See you in the kitchen, Jason. Either way."

From behind me I hear his first step, and then a nearly snarled, "Oh, I'm _getting_ there."

* * *

The heels are murder. I never knew a pair of shoes could be quite this infuriating.

I grimace, pushing myself up from where I tripped and hit the carpet, carefully getting back to my feet. It's a few new carpet burns on my palms and my cheek, but nothing important. "I'm fine," is what I answer Selina's look with, knowing she's watching me. Technically she's reading some magazine about Gotham Museum's latest acquisitions, but she's paying attention. I shift my weight back onto the heels, testing my balance for a second before taking a few testing steps. Oh yeah, I'm just fine.

I have taken nastier falls in these damn things.

Selina's eyes lower back down to the magazine. "Freeze, and…?"

I think for a second, as I shift my weight around on the heels. Who's the last big player in Gotham, apart from Batman and Selina? "Penguin!" I announce, and yeah, I'm proud. Especially when she gives one of those tiny smiles; my way of knowing that I did something right. I start walking again to cover it up. My calves twinge a bit, but I ignore them.

"And which of those are safe to approach and talk to?" she asks, flipping to the next page.

I think that's a trick question. "Alone, or with you?" She gives another smile; I guessed right.

"Let's start with alone."

I consider the question as I swing around the couch, my hand trailing along the back of it more out of habit than any need to balance myself anymore. "Freeze," is who I start with, "Croc, Riddler, Bane, and maybe Penguin depending on his mood. Right?" Selina's gaze flicks up to me, one of her eyebrows rising. It takes me a second to understand why. "And only if it's a meeting space or something; never on the streets," I belatedly add.

She nods, gaze lowering back to her magazine. "And with me?"

"Anyone except Joker, who I am never, ever to speak to unless there's no other option." I slide myself onto the arm of the couch next to her, leaning over to see what kind of pictures are in the article she's reading. "Harley's alright though, as long as Joker's not with her. Is that for tonight?"

"Maybe tomorrow," she counters, lightly pressing her shoulder into my side. "Nothing's really catching my interest just yet, but I'm sure I could find someone who really wants these. For the right price." She looks up at me, smirks, and then shoves me off the couch with her shoulder.

I gasp, stagger, but ultimately catch myself. "Selina!" I complain, and she flips another page of the magazine.

"You're doing good," she says idly.

"I— Really?" She looks over at me and gives another small smile. Warmth flares up in my chest, and I duck my head a little bit as I feel that heat rising to my cheeks. "Well, duh." I force sarcasm and confidence into my voice as I raise my chin. It's old habit to let my weight swing to one side, a flick of my head tossing my bangs out of my eyes. "You wouldn't have taken in just _anybody_ ; I'm pretty much a badass."

She gives a small laugh, and then flips the magazine shut and tosses it down onto her coffee table. "Alright, come here little _badass_." Her tone is teasing, and the moment I step forward she's reaching out and taking hold of one of my wrists, tugging me in and then down onto the couch next to her.

I still freeze up for a tiny second when her arm slides around my shoulders, but I shove the slight wariness away. It's a _lot_ easier when she pulls me in against her side, her fingers combing my hair back and then scratching at my scalp. I let out a long breath and lean into her, closing my eyes and giving a small noise of contentment. She's warm and soft, which is still so much more than I ever even dreamed to hope about. There's still a part of me that thinks she's going to realize she made a terrible mistake someday, or finally get fed up with having me around.

That… It'll be fine. These weeks have been some of the best of my life, and definitely the best in a _long_ time. Even if she gets bored of me, it was still a good run, and I'll remember the time here and what she's taught me in a good light.

I know what I am; I wouldn't fault Selina for realizing that too. I can handle the pain.

So I relax into her side, my head resting against her chest as her heartbeat thuds into my skull, and her fingers trace meaningless patterns across my scalp and the back of my neck. Her lips press to my forehead, and I can't help giving a small smile at the feeling. Her other hand brushes my bangs back behind my ears, and then I drag my eyes open at the thoughtful sound that vibrates through her chest. I tilt my head up, but her gaze is a bit to one side, looking at my hair.

"I was thinking of taking you out to get this cut," she tells me, as she tucks a last few strands away. "It's getting a little long, unless you like it that way." I shake my head, and she smiles again. "I didn't think so. Well, then let's plan for that. I can get a touch up, and we'll see what someone can do with your hair."

I shift a bit, watching her gaze. On one hand, I _could_ really use a trim for my hair — it's starting to get in the way of my eyes — but the idea of actually _paying_ somebody to cut it is weirdly foreign. It's not my money, but it still feels bizarre. "You don't have to—"

" _Shh_ ," Selina reprimands. "Jason, what do I _have_ to do?"

I swallow. "Nothing," I answer quietly.

"That's right," she whispers, pressing another kiss to my forehead. "So when I offer you something?"

My throat clenches shut, but I force out the answer she's expecting. "It's because you _want_ to." It's… Those words are _so_ hard to say. The idea of someone _wanting_ to give me something, and not just do it because they have to or I threatened them to, is crazy. I'm a street rat; no one _gives_ us anything. That's the first rule of living on Gotham's streets.

Take everything you can, and _fight_ for it, because no one is going to give you jack shit unless you take it from them with teeth and nails. I would know; I took a _lot_ of things from a lot of people. I had a lot of things taken from me too, but most of the time I chose to give them up. I _never_ let anyone take the things that were really important.

Selina pulls me a little tighter against her side, lips finding my forehead again. "That's right. You're mine now, little stray. Remember?"

I squirm a little bit, my arms crossing across my stomach, my head ducking. "Selina, I'm not…" I bite down on my tongue before I say something stupid, digging my nails into my arms. She's quiet, and when I finally look up I find her watching me. There's no judgment in her gaze, no pity, and that makes it just a little easier. "You could have anyone," I whisper, half afraid that the words are going to click in her head, and just like that everything will be gone.

"Nearly," she agrees, and my heart drops a bit. Then she traces her fingers down the back of my neck and murmurs, "But I picked _you_ , Jason. You're not just anyone; you've got fire and danger in you and _that's_ what caught my attention. So hush, sweetheart. I like you just the way you are."

My eyes close, and I squeeze them shut because I can feel the prickling at the back of them, feel tears welling up and I am _not_ crying. I haven't cried where anyone can see me in years. "Thanks," I manage to say, and it feels _so_ inadequate but it's the best I can do.

Her arms wrap around me, pulling me halfway into her lap in a real hug. _God_ , the contact feels so good. "It's nothing but truth." Her voice is soft, and her arms might be slender but they're strong around my back. "You're safe here, Jason. I promise." I swallow, and then give a small nod against her chest. It's the best I can do right now. "Alright," she murmurs, and slowly releases me from the cage of her arms, "now let's see you run in those heels, hm?"

I tilt my head up, disbelief managing to banish the threat of tears. "I… Run? You want me to _run_ in these things?"

She smirks, leaning back into the couch. "That's what I said, isn't it? Go on." I sputter at her, and she gives a slightly sweeter smile that's not even a _little_ sincere. "The faster you can, the faster I'll teach you acrobatics."

Oh, _bribery_. How does she always know _exactly_ what will make me determined to meet her tests? I guess it's easy enough; most things can motivate me. "You're on," I say, giving a small grin as I get to my feet. The heels are steady enough under my feet, for now, but I've never tried anything faster than a normal walking speed.

She meets my grin with a smile, reaching for her magazine again. "You do it by tonight, and we'll go out for haircuts and whatever kind of food you want."

"Yeah?" I ask, and she nods in confirmation, holding my gaze. I flash a second grin, shifting my weight. " _Watch_ me."

* * *

"Faster," Selina orders, one of her hands tapping my right shoulder, "and not so much strength. You've got claws, you don't need force to do damage."

I slice forward with my right hand, and four new lines open up across the cloth dummy. Not as big as the four from my last hit though, which makes me huff out a breath. "But I do _more_ damage if I hit harder," I point out. I flex my hands, feeling the constriction of the gloves around them. Not real ones; these are just for practice. Selina's said that when I get _real_ ones, for a _real_ suit, the claws will be retractable. So I can be nasty or gentle, depending on how I feel and what I'm doing.

"But you're _small_ ," she stresses. "Almost everyone you fight is going to be bigger and stronger than you, so I want you to focus on speed. If they can't catch you, they can't hit you, which is why I am _not_ teaching you how to hit things really hard, I'm teaching you to slice things into pieces without getting touched. Do it again."

Gah, but she's _right_. Everyone's going to be bigger than me, and I already know the kind of pain that happens when someone bigger, stronger, and pissed off gets their hands on you. Taken a few beatings before; not something I'm eager to repeat.

"What do you mean _almost?_ " I ask, with another half-hearted swipe at the dummy. "Who's _not_ going to be?"

Her hands come down on my shoulders, thumbs rubbing into my muscle and almost dragging a groan from me before I strangle it back. "Robin, for one."

I straighten up a little bit, turning my head over my shoulder to look up at her. She almost _never_ talks about Batman and Robin except in passing, and I'm just really _interested_. "Tell me about him?" I ask, almost pleading. I mean, yeah, it's probably a good idea to know about him because _he's_ probably who I'll be fighting the most, but I just want to know. I know a lot of stories about him — Robin was a pretty big topic among the Crime Alley kids — but I chalk a lot of those up to lies and bullshit. I want to know the real stories.

Selina smiles, but her slightly narrowed eyes tell me I'm not fooling her for even a second. "Hit the dummy again. _Faster_. I'll tell you a fact for every good swing."

I make a face, but of course I fall right into her trap. No surprise there. "Deal," I agree, and turn back to the dummy. _Fast_ , not strong. I coil up a bit, and then let my arm snap out and around. Not much control, but it's fast and that's what she wanted. I get three shallow slices along its shoulder.

"He's a little taller than you," Selina says, hands working into my shoulders. "About an inch or so." I lash out again, almost the exact same movement. "I'd guess he's a couple of years older too." I try one with my left hand; slower, but it still seems to be enough. "Black hair, a little longer than yours, not as curly."

It feels… It feels _good_. New lines open up on the dummy, and when I'm fast enough for her tastes Selina tells me little facts and tidbits about Robin. _The_ Robin. About the way he smiles, the way he laughs, his taste for terrible puns and bad jokes in the middle of important fights, and the way he fights. The fact that he's faster than me, more muscled, skilled beyond what I think is possible. She tells me about his flexibility, his slightly olive tinted skin, and his good nature.

She also tells me about his tells. The way he shifts his weight when he strikes, the way his dodges can get predictable if you know what you're looking for, how it's possible to get a hold of his cape and yank him to a stop if you're fast enough. She tells me about the way he glares, his _temper_ when he's faced with something that pisses him off enough to get him to drop that front of jokes and determination.

At some point I stop striking the dummy, and I just _listen_. I try and memorize it all; engrave all of it deeply enough into my memory that I'll remember when I need to, so that I _know_. I want to remember everything about Robin that I can, even if it's just second hand information from Selina. I want to know who he is, what he's like. I want to meet him, but I don't want to be caught totally unawares when I do. Because I know I will. Selina has her thing with Batman, whatever _that_ is, and Robin is pretty much his shadow. I'll meet Robin, I know that. I'll probably fight with him a pretty big chunk of the time, while Selina's distracting or playing with Batman.

I _have_ to know as much as I possibly can. I just _have_ to.

Selina's hands work against my shoulders as she talks, and I find myself relaxing back into her, my eyes closing and the low murmur of her voice the only thing I'm really paying attention to. She knows a lot, but it's not infinite. Eventually she grows quiet, and then squeezes the outside of my shoulders once, her lips pressing to the top of my head.

"So _practice_ , my little stray. Maybe if you get good enough, you'll actually end up beating him someday."

I open my eyes, tilting my head back to look up at her. " _Someday?_ " I say, and it comes out almost as a complaint even though I only mean it out of confusion. "He's not _that_ good, is he?"

Selina smiles and gives a soft laugh, letting go of my shoulders. "Oh, sweetheart. He's been doing this for _years_ now. He's that good; you'll see. If you learn enough, and pay attention, you should be able to score a hit or two before he wins." She lets go of my shoulders and reaches up to ruffle my hair. I make a face, shifting away from her and spinning on one foot to duck out of range. "Don't worry, kitten, I'll bail you out the first time you get into trouble with him."

I blink, stare at her, and then breathe a, "Oh my god, _no_. Please don't call me that." Her mouth curls into a smirk, and a feeling of doom settles into my chest. "It's too late, isn't it?"

She reaches out, shifts forward and manages to get my hair again before I can dodge. "Oh, _definitely_. Come here, kitten, let me get those claws off of you. We can practice more later."

I warily step forward, raising my hands up. It's only a couple of second for her to tug the form fitting gloves off of my arms, and then toss them down next to the partially shredded dummy. Then she reaches for my hair, _again_ , and I pull away to avoid it. Her hand misses me by an inch or so, as I slip into half a crouch, and her gaze locks with mine. She smiles, her weight shifts, and I recognize the glint in her eye just in time to react to it.

I take off, pushing off of my braced feet and booking it across her penthouse apartment. I can hear her just behind me, her footsteps a little softer than mine even though she's taller and heavier, and my mouth curls into a grin at the familiar game. I can almost _feel_ her reaching for me, and I duck to the side and and down low, bracing one hand on the floor and spinning myself around it. She leaps over the sweep of my legs, but mostly the spin was to get me pointed the opposite direction, and I push myself past that last bit of drag from the speed of the turn and _run_.

I head for the living room, leaping the coffee table with one push and then bracing my left hand on the top of the couch to flip over the top. That gives me a flash of Selina, still _right_ behind me, as I'm upside down, so instead of continuing to run I let myself drop to the ground on the other side. There's a rush of air as she follows me over the couch, and I flatten against its back and let her go right over me. She's bigger, she takes longer to recover from flips, and in that precious second I push off the furniture and barrel myself into her. I think she chooses to fall more than my weight does anything, but either way she hits the ground.

Of course, it's about two seconds before she's got my left arm twisted back behind my back, trapping me on my stomach, but the thought was what counted.

Then she's letting me go, and as I flip over onto my back she's gathering me into a hug. She's laughing, arms tight around my torso, and then somehow I'm laughing with her. I let myself hug her back, curling my hands into the fabric of her shirt and just letting the rest of the world not exist for a few moments. It feels so good to laugh, to play, to be safe and warm and _happy_. And I am. I'm happy with Selina, and hard to believe or not I'm safe too. I've started to really understand that. She might not be someone like Batman, but Selina is dangerous in her own way, and she likes me. I don't need protecting, but I know I could trust her to do it anyway.

Being able to close my eyes and just _laugh_ is so incredible I don't know how to explain it. Her arms are tight around me, I'm nearly in her lap, and I relax with a wide smile, leaning my head against her shoulder. My hands loosen, but I leave them around her; I want to as long as she'll let me.

I know that this is definitely a touch-starved thing, but I don't really care. It feels good, and it makes me happy. I'll leave the psychoanalyzing to people who actually give a shit.

One of Selina's hands rises up the back of my neck, lightly tangling in my hair and scratching over my scalp. It's one of her favorite ways to touch, and I am _so_ not complaining. I was totally unaware of it before, but I have discovered that head scratches are pretty much the best thing in the world. I can never do anything but relax when she does that, it just feels way too good. My breathing evens out, and I rest my weight on her, tilting my head to bury my face a bit more, but more importantly to give her a better angle to reach more of my scalp.

"My kitten," she murmurs, her other arm tightening around my back for a second. I manage a snort at the terrible nickname — I just _know_ I'm going to end up regretting letting her use it at all — but I can't help my smile either. "I've got plans tonight," she tells me, her fingers slowing down. They're really just combing through my hair now, not scratching my scalp anymore. That's a little easier to handle. "Don't wait up for me, sweetheart. I'm going to have some fun with the big bad Bat; I'll be late."

I nod against her shoulder. It takes me a minute — I've been considering this question pretty much since I met her — but I gather together my courage and then open my mouth to ask, "What's with you and Batman?"

Her hand pauses in my hair, and then she gives a soft laugh. "Told you my type was tall and handsome, remember, Jason? Batman is the one vault I haven't cracked yet, but I'll get there. He's just being stubborn."

I draw my head away, looking up at her and making absolutely no effort to disguise my wince. " _Batman?_ Why him? I mean, he's just so…" I try and make some kind of face to explain, as my mind searches for a word, but all I can come up with is, " _Justice_."

That apparently startles her enough to make her snort, which I'm not sure is something I've ever heard from her, but then she composes herself and gives a wide smile. "Yes, he is, isn't he? You'll learn, sweetheart; there's no accounting for taste. When _you_ fall for someone inappropriate, I'm going to remind you of this."

I make another face. "Like who? I don't think I can top being a thief and trying to flirt with _Batman_ , just saying. Now _that's_ 'inappropriate,' Selina."

She leans in, kissing my forehead, and then squeezes my waist for a second. "I'm going to remind you," she repeats. "You're _so_ going to fall for someone totally not right for you, and I think I'm going to be _very_ amused. Besides, I could have chosen to pursue someone a lot worse looking than Batman. You haven't even met him yet, Jason. You can try and tease me after you realize that he is _very_ hot."

My mouth curls into a small grin, and I give a huff of laughter. "Hot? _Batman?_ Must be a really good looking jaw, 'cause otherwise I don't know what you're looking at that isn't covered by armor or the cape."

The gasp she gives is exaggerated, and her hand slides off my waist to press over her heart. "You wound me!" she exclaims. "You little _rascal_." Then her hands are dropping down and I suck in a sharp breath and backpedal because they're headed straight for my ribs. I get maybe three inches backwards before her hands are sliding under my shirt and her fingers are tickling my sides, somehow finding every sensitive spot with perfect precision.

My breath catches on laughter as I grope downwards and try and push her hands away, my back hitting the ground and arching on automatic. Then she's over me, merciless and unmovable and I _cannot stop laughing_. "Selina!" I gasp, uselessly batting at her hands. One slips to my stomach, and I nearly _shriek_ out a laugh as all my muscle contracts and bends me inwards. But that only lasts as long as it takes her other hand to slide up and find my underarm, and then I'm jerking and twisting away, futilely trying to protect the sensitive spots. It's almost painful, and it's hard to get enough air through the laughter, but it feels so _good_ I don't even think of really trying to force her away from me.

She stops after a few more seconds, and then she's dropping down next to me and wrapping her arm around my back, pulling me in against her chest as I gasp for air and try to recover. "That's for insulting my taste in men," she says, with a clearly teasing edge and a warm smile. "You don't get to say anything until you at least meet him, kitten, so hush."

I manage to catch my breath, but the grin on my face feels permanent as I close my eyes again and wiggle my way closer to her. "Deal."


	3. It's Love

Welcome back! So, here I have some more ridiculously adorable fluff for you. (But also important plot, I swear!) So enjoy!

(Also, I dropped it on the 'Patch Job' story as well, but I just wanted to let everyone know that FF is being really weird about reviews and not letting me answer any, so that's why I haven't been answering them for the last few days. I think it's fixed now, but just a heads up.)

* * *

I never rush waking. I take it slow, letting myself drift to awareness and then slowly, _slowly_ , actually wake up. Calm mornings are one of my biggest indulgences — apart from all the other things that _dear_ Bruce will never approve of — and I am a firm believer in the smaller pleasures of life. So I stretch, arch my back and let my sheets slide and pool down near my waist, and then take another minute just to relax before I roll my way out of my bed. I slip into one of my robes — dark blue, with silver embroidery and a _sinfully_ soft inner lining — and then head out to the rest of my home.

Until I pause in my doorway, caught by the sight on my couch.

Jason is up and clearly fully awake, long since dressed. He's curled into one corner of my couch, holding a book open and braced against his knees, his head ducked towards it. Isis is curled half on his shoulder and half on the arm of the couch, _very_ asleep and probably having been that way for a long time. Jason looks totally at peace, and as I watch he flips a page of the book. Isis stirs, makes a noise that sounds vaguely like complaint at having been shifted, and Jason tilts his head sideways into her fur. The sound that comes out of his throat is something soft and soothing, and Isis settles right back down within a few seconds.

Jason smiles, closes his eyes against her, and I can't help smiling as well. He's come so far, settled down and relaxed so much, and I can't say that seeing the softer sides of Jason has been anything but a privilege. He's so very kind, thoughtful, and _bright_. He's slotted himself right into my life and I don't think I'll ever want him to leave; I can't imagine wanting his presence gone.

He might as well be my son, for how well he fits in my home.

That thought makes my breath catch, and before I can think about it I'm slipping forward towards him. I'm mostly at his back, so he doesn't realize I'm there until I thread my fingers through his hair and tilt his head back so I can press a kiss against his forehead. He seems a little surprised, but he doesn't tense or startle, and that's miles better than he would have reacted before.

"Selina," he breathes, sounding happy but with that tinge of surprise to his tone.

I smile, tracing my fingers down either side of his jaw before letting go so I can circle around the front of the couch and settle in next to him. "Good morning," I say softly, lifting his legs and laying them out over my lap.

He gives me one of those small, true smiles that mean he's nearly bursting with joy. "Morning," he answers, quietly closing the book. "I would have made breakfast, but uh…" He tilts his head towards Isis, and I smile a little wider so I don't laugh.

"Completely understandable," I agree. "What are you reading, kitten?" He flushes a bit in embarrassment, but turns the book over so I can see the front cover. "Pride and Prejudice?" A slightly more intense flush, with a nod, and I squeeze his calves. "A fan of classics, or just reading whatever you haven't torn through already?"

"Classics," he admits, and then he's giving a tiny smile and looking up. "I finished the last of your Shakespeare this morning, which was _great_ , and then I needed something new and this was there, so…" He swallows, a tinge of wariness sparking in his eyes. "You don't mind, right?"

"Of course not, sweetheart."

He relaxes again at the reassurance, and Isis stirs again on his shoulder. Her legs stretch out, one of them shoving against his neck, and he smiles and obligingly bends away. He gives another of those soft, soothing noises, but she lifts her head and then she's getting up. I can see her claws dig into his shoulder as she arches, but he doesn't make a sound or even twitch. When Isis seems fully awake she twists, licking the side of Jason's face before pushing off his shoulder to jump down to the ground. The smile curling his mouth is absolutely nothing short of brilliant, and when that smile turns to me something in my chest softens.

I stroke one of his calves, considering his smile and the easy relaxation of his frame into my couch. "What would you think," I start slowly, and that smile fades down to something smaller as he sits up a bit to pay attention, "of making this official?"

He blinks, stares at me for a second, and I can see by the confusion in his eyes that he doesn't understand what I'm talking about. "What do you mean?"

I reach out, finding one of his hands and interlacing my fingers with it, lightly holding onto him. "What would you think of me adopting you, Jason?" He freezes up, eyes widening in shock, hand clenching down over mine. I'm quick to assure him, "You can always say no, sweetheart."

"I—" He swallows, stares for a second more. "Are you serious?"

I give him a nod and a smile. "You're a part of my life now," I tell him, "and I like having you around. I want to take care of you, and have you be a part of my family, and I'd love to be able to call you my _son_. If you're willing, then I want to make all of this formal, Jason. You can stay no matter what you decide, but it's an open offer."

He's still staring at me, and I see him swallow again. "Your… Son?" His voice cracks on that word, and then he drags in a sharp, shallow breath. "But I'm not— I'm just—"

I squeeze his hand, tight enough to be just a little painful, and hold his gaze when he winces. "You're _my Stray_ , Jason. Your past has never mattered to me, and don't you _ever_ think that where you're from makes you lesser." I shift a bit closer, and reach up with my free hand to trace my fingers over his hairline, underneath the curl of his bangs. "I'm offering this because I care for you, Jason, and because you're _worth_ it. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," I give a small smile, and then cup the side of his jaw so I can tilt his head up. " _Especially_ not your own mind, sweetheart. You are important, you are worthwhile, and if you let me I will tell you that every day until you believe it."

Jason's breath is short and sharp, and then his mouth parts a bit as his eyes glisten, tears gathering at the corners of them. He ducks his head down, eyes squeezing shut, his free hand twisting into a fist over the cover of the book. I squeeze his hand for comfort, but don't speak until he drags in a deeper breath and looks back up at me. He still looks just a step away from tears, and I give him a small smile.

"Are you alright, kitten?"

He huffs out a breath of laughter, and then his mouth stretches into a smile. His voice shakes as he whispers, " _Yes_." His hand clenches down over mine, and he tilts his head into my hand. " _Yes_ , Selina. I— I'd like that."

My smile widens, and wordlessly I open my arms. He takes the offer, all but crawling into my lap and wrapping his arms around my chest, burying his head down against my collarbone. He's shaking a little bit, and I can feel the wet dampness of tears soaking into my robe, but I don't comment. I just wrap my arms around his back and press my face into his hair as I shift him back and forth in small rocking movements. It's automatic, instinctive, even if Jason is really too big for me to rock him like any small child.

"Thank you," I murmur, smiling just to vent the joy in my chest. "Thank you, Jason."

His hands clench into my robe, and I think it's meant to be acknowledgement. So I tighten my grip on him in answer, so he knows that I understand what he means even if he can't speak at the moment. I breathe with him, letting him relax against me and just feeling the slightly uneven rise and fall of his chest. He's nearly silent about the crying, the only bit that makes any noise are the occasional hitches as he inhales, but the rest of it is almost unnoticeable. I honestly don't know whether his tears are pain or happiness, and I don't want to pull him away to check.

I just offer my comfort, letting him stay close as long as he wants to.

Eventually he shifts away, and then pulls back to his corner of the couch. His eyes are a little red, and he's got a flush to his cheeks, but when he meets my gaze he gives a tiny, shaking smile. That makes me move over to him, pushing his legs down off the couch and fitting myself up next to him. I slide my arm around his back, holding him in against my side and leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. I don't ask about his breakdown, and he doesn't offer anything. He's alright, that's the important part.

"So, there are a few things the two of us should decide, since we'll be in this together." He twists his head to look up at me, and I give a soft smile down at him. "Are you keeping your name, or taking mine, sweetheart?"

He blinks, looking a little startled. "Taking yours?" I get from his tone that it's a question, not a confirmation.

"That's right," I murmur. "Since I'll be adopting you, we have that option. Do you want to stay Jason Todd, or do you want to be Jason Kyle instead?" His eyes widen, mouth falling open a little bit. "The name will make things easier," I continue, as shock plays over his face. "I'm well known, and having my name will make people treat you differently than if I adopted you but you kept your name instead. The media will hound you either way, but you can learn to use that last name as a weapon to get what you want. Or keep people away from you. It's your call, kitten, and you don't have to pick right now."

He manages to shake himself out of the shock, and give a small nod. He has this look like he's thinking about something important, so I wait for him to puzzle it out. It's maybe a minute before he meets my gaze again, and then quietly says, "Kyle. I'm not— I don't want anything to do with my Dad." He swallows, and then looks down towards his feet. "If he ever even shows up again."

I give him a moment, and then pull him into my side for a slightly harder hug. "Of course you can take my name, sweetheart. That's settled then."

He shivers a little bit, but shoves out a breath and straightens after it passes. When he looks up at me, his eyes are determined. "What else?"

I give a tiny smile, and watch him relax a bit. "What were you doing for school before you came to me, kitten?"

It clearly isn't a question Jason was expecting, because he looks taken aback for a second or so. "Uh…" He clears his throat, and ducks his head a little bit. "I wasn't," he admits. "When my parents were around I was in the local public school, but once I was on my own I stopped going. Didn't want to get thrown into juvie, or the foster system. Better not to go than to risk it, and no one ever tried to track me down as far as I know so I guess they didn't care. Maybe they figured I died or something. Wouldn't be the first time one of the kids in there just vanished."

I almost wince, but I hold it back. "Do you know of Gotham Academy?"

He _does_ wince, and then makes a face immediately afterwards. "I've heard of it from other kids. Private school with a bunch of snobby little bastard rich kids who wouldn't know real work if it punched them in the fucking face."

"Language," I remind him, tapping his shoulder, and he flushes bright red like he just realized what he said.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It was— Everybody at my school hated the kids from GA. We went up against them a couple of times in regional tournaments and things, they always treated us like dirt. Not that they were wrong, I guess. Way the world works; the millionaires get the right to step all over the people barely scraping things together. They were just a bunch of pretentious jack—" He catches himself, rubs his hands together as his shoulders rise up a few inches with tension. "Jerks."

I watch the side of his face, his back. "You know," I offer after a moment, "going to that school won't suddenly make you like them. Not even outrageous amounts of money can fix a bad attitude or a spoiled kid, but you aren't that, Jason. Not all of them are like the ones you ran into either; there are good kids there, and there are bullies. It's like any other school."

He snorts. "Yeah, but at a rich private school I don't get to break the bully's nose when he tries to fu— mess with me, do I?"

I smile a little at the thought of my little Jason standing up for himself, and _winning_. "No," I admit, "you don't. But if you have my name, it might be safer for you to go to Gotham Academy." He looks up, clearly confused, and I stroke my hand down his arm and give a small shrug of my shoulders. "You'll have money, Jason, and that will make you a target to some people. I suppose the question you'll have to decide is which kind of ostracism you want to deal with."

He blinks, looks especially confused for a second, and then echoes, "Ostracism?"

Oh. "Isolation," I correct myself, "and bullying. The kids at a public school will resent you for having money and for being lucky, and there will be some who will try to get close to you purely so they can use you for what you have now. Private school kids will resent you because you weren't born in the elite like them, and you aren't part of their culture." There's something hurt on his face, but knowing, and I lean down so I can kiss his forehead. "I'm sorry, Jason, but you won't fit into either group if you let me adopt you. Do you still think it's worth it?"

He pauses, but then nods. "Yeah," he murmurs, "it's worth it, and I'll go to Gotham Academy. You're right, it's probably safer there. Not gonna get a knife pulled on me in some fancy private school, and I can deal with some stupid rich kids. Sticks and stones, right?"

"You've got some time to decide," I remind him. "School season won't start for a couple more months, and I have to get the paperwork and lawyers together to adopt you first." He nods, and I tug him back a bit and more securely in against me. I raise my hand up off his shoulder to the side of his neck, tracing my fingers across his skin and then up into his hair, and he leans into me. The tension drains out of him, and I give a soft smile. "How about for now, we celebrate with something delicious to eat, and then we can watch movies for the rest of the day?"

His head tilts back so he can look at me, and there's a soft smile on his face. "That sounds good," he agrees. "Order out?"

I echo his smile. "Of course, kitten. Go grab the menu of whatever restaurant you want."

His smile lights up a bit, and he starts to move before he pauses. I almost ask what's making him stop before he's leaning up towards me. His lips press against my cheek, and I stare at him in shock as he whispers, "Thank you, Selina," and then pulls away.

He hurries out of the room, towards the kitchen and the drawer of menus I've collected over the years, and all I can do is stare after him. Then my mouth curls into a smile, and oh, do I recognize this feeling in my heart. It's not the same as what I feel for Bruce, but it's unmistakable and definitely all for my little kitten.

It's love.

* * *

It's tricky getting everything ready without Jason finding out, but worth it.

He has his own room now, so that made it easier, but he tends to get up earlier than I do. Luckily, I stay up later than he does, so most of my work I do after he's already gone to sleep. Not that there's much to do.

It may be Jason's birthday, but he doesn't know that I found that out, and I know he won't want anything too big. He prefers small, meaningful things to large displays, which is perfect. I've never been much for grandiose gestures myself, and with just the two of us it should never be about anything more than what makes us happy. In this case, what makes _Jason_ happy.

I make sure I'm up before he is, and take my time socializing with my cats and making sure everything is just right before he wakes up. When he does he stumbles out of his room still yawning, and stops when he sees me. I know it's not that I'm sprawled out over the carpet, with Isis held in both my hands, but definitely because I'm actually awake. I smile at him, and he walks over and sinks down onto the carpet next to me, tucking himself in against my side. I set Isis down — she trots off to do whatever it is that she feels like at the moment — and I turn towards Jason, reaching forward to comb my fingers through his hair.

"Awake?" I ask, with a teasing edge.

He grumbles, but leans into my hand. "Pretty much." He yawns again, and then his eyes open. "You have business or something?" His voice is tired, but he definitely is alert. At least enough for my purposes.

"Or something," I agree. "Breakfast, my kitten?"

He snorts, but I see his mouth flick into a smirk for a second at my nickname for him. "Yeah, sure. Got something in mind?"

I get to my feet, and he follows just a little bit behind me. "I might." I slide my arm around his shoulders, steering him towards the kitchen and my set up surprise. "In the mood for anything specific?" I ask, to waste a bit of time as we walk. He still seems a bit asleep, but it's not bad enough to stop him stretching his arms over his head as we move.

"Nah," he says, his tone careless. "I'm good for anything."

We step into the kitchen, and it takes a second but then I feel him freeze. I smile, and tighten my grip on his shoulders for a moment. "How about cake?" I ask, as I lean down and press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

There's a small cake in the center of the kitchen table, with two forks and a carving knife beside it. There are fourteen unlit candles in the top of it, and the lighter is sitting just about a foot away, waiting. Fourteen, because I found out that my kitten was thirteen, and that this, August sixteenth, is his birthday. I caught it just in time too, it was a great moment when I realized that.

It took some time to find the records for him, since most of his things had apparently just been left behind in their home when his mother died, and were lost or thrown out. I did eventually manage to find his birth certificate, and a few random personal effects from his family, but there wasn't much left. Honestly, I think I was lucky I managed to find anything at all. For a bit there, I was convinced I was going to have to fake his records and just pay someone a lot of money to ignore anything that didn't add up. Bless kind neighbors, I suppose. If that woman hadn't kept that one box in her home, on the off chance someone came back for it, I really would have had to go the illegal route.

Jason looks utterly stunned. "I… I never told you when my birthday was," he breathes, "or my age. Did I? How did you know?"

I gently guide him forward, into the chair closest to the cake. Chocolate mint, his favorite flavor combination as far as I've found. I grab the lighter, and set to work lighting the candles as I speak. "I found your birth certificate," I tell him, looking him in the eye as much as possible while being careful not to light anything but the candles on fire. "Your birthday was on it, and I wanted to give you a real celebration. Just the two of us; one time before being famous requires your parties to be famous too." He blinks up at me, and I set the lighter down and nudge the cake towards him. I smile, and reach forward to ruffle his hair. The fact that he lets me tells me how in shock he is. "Happy birthday, Jason."

He looks up at me, and then down at the cake. Then, after a few seconds more of shock, his mouth curves into a wide smile, and he relaxes into the chair. He drags in a deep breath, and then shoves it out, blowing out all the candles with one sweep of air. I give a couple of claps, and then step forward and kneel down so I can pull him sideways into a hug. He returns it, and I let it go as long as he wants it to, waiting for him to start to pull away first. Eventually he does, though he does it reluctantly and his hands linger against my sides until what feels like the last possible moment they can without feeling like he's clinging to me.

"You've got cake to eat," I remind him, with a smile. "You want me to cut you off a piece, or just hand you a fork?"

He looks just a bit overwhelmed, still a little bit stunned, and his smile is soft and almost shy. "Sit and share it with me?" he asks, his voice quiet enough I almost don't hear him. But only almost.

I pull one of the other chairs over right next to him, and sit down in it after I've grabbed the two forks. I hand him one, and his shoulder presses into mine as he leans into me. His head tucks against me for a second, before I nudge him up and tilt my head towards the cake. "You first, birthday boy."

His look is somewhere between disbelief and amazement, but he reaches out and digs his fork into the cake, taking off a hunk. He lifts the piece to his mouth, and I watch his eyes close as the bite hits his tongue. His head tilts back a little bit, and I smile and reach for a piece of my own.

"That good, hm?" I tease, before I take my own bite. It _is_ really good, but I knew it would be. When you pay for quality, you get it. "Oh, that _is_ good." Jason gives a small, startled laugh, and I smile down at him. "Come on, sweetheart. The sooner we finish our incredibly healthy breakfast, the sooner I can give you your presents."

His eyes _light_ up, and he almost immediately reaches for a second piece of the cake. But his movement slows when it hits his mouth, eyes closing again for just a second. Then he shakes his head, and firmly says, "No. This is way too good to rush."

I can't help laughing. "That is more than fair." I take another bite, and then promise, "The presents will still be there when we're done. You can take as much time as you want to enjoy this, Jason; there's no rush at all. I want you to enjoy yourself as much as you possibly can, however you want to. You call the shots today."

He looks up at me, and his eyes are a little wide. "Really?" he asks, sounding a little awed.

"Promise," I murmur. "After this and presents, the rest of the day is yours. We can do absolutely anything you want to; I'll make it happen. _You_ are the most important person in the world today, and I want you to feel like it." I lean down, pressing my lips to the top of his head. "Anything you want, kitten; just ask."

Jason is smiling, is _clearly_ overwhelmed as well, but then he's laughing and leaning into me. He sounds _joyous_ , and I can't stop myself from wrapping my arm around his back and leaning into him as well, just enjoying his happiness. " _Thank you_ ," he says, his voice bright and full of that laughter.

I close my eyes. My smile feels like it can't possibly ever leave my face again, not with Jason anywhere near me. "Of course," I answer. Again, I let him choose when he finally wants to pull away, and even then he's smiling and just so _happy_ I can barely believe it. It wasn't relatively long ago that he flinched every time I touched him, that he never smiled and certainly wasn't _happy_ by any stretch of the imagination.

But as it turned out, all he needed was someone to care for him, to accept him, and to give him a home. I'm not sure why or how I became that person, but I would never choose to give him up now. Not for the world.

I don't know how anyone who's ever seen behind Jason's walls could let him go again. He's just such a darling, _loving_ boy. Who could turn him away after seeing what he's really like?

I know I can't.

We share the cake, and of course I let Jason have the majority of it, but I end up finishing the last few bites when he seems sure that he doesn't want any more. I push the dish and forks away to be cleaned up later, as well as the discarded candles, and then press a quick kiss to Jason's cheek before I get up out of my chair.

"Stay here," I murmur. "I'll be right back."

I head out of the room, gathering his two presents from the one hiding place in my bedroom that as far as I know Jason's never found. Or maybe he stopped looking after that first stretch of time where he didn't really trust me, and was pocketing and hiding small, valuable things. Either way, I know he didn't run across these. Maybe I'll ask him what hiding spots he knows about, just to see how well he's actually searched the house. Just, not today. Today is about him; for him.

When I get back to the kitchen Jason turns to watch me walk in, and his eyes widen a bit at the two presents in my hands. One is a fairly large box, and it's that one I set in front of him. The other, a much thinner box, I keep to myself for the moment, and set down right in front of where I'm sitting. Both presents are wrapped in a black and gold patterned paper — it caught my eye — and tied off with dark blue ribbon.

Jason just stares at the present in front of him, and I lean in to kiss his forehead, which is usually enough to jar him back into action. "Go ahead," I prompt, just in case the physical contact isn't enough this time.

He stutters into action, and it's definitely the words that drive him into it. He reaches forwards, and his hands are careful as he unties the ribbon and lets it fall away, and then sets to work on the box. I watch with gentle amusement as he carefully pulls the tape away and unfolds the paper, not tearing even an inch of it, until he has the plain, dark wooden box inside it. He turns it until he finds the front, and then pauses a moment before flicking the metal latch up and opening it.

I can hear his breath catch, and I smile. I don't say anything, I just let him reach into the box and pull the folded clothes out. Black leather, with reinforced armor pads beneath it that should give him enough protection against basic attacks to make me comfortable. I know the design already — I dreamed it up — but I watch him explore it with fondness warm in my chest. The one piece suit, and the hood at the top. Just enough to cover his hair, but not big enough for anyone to yank down over his head. Then I watch his attention rise back to the box, and he sets the suit down in his lap and reaches for the rest. The black belt, with all of its tools and pouches, the coiled whip, and finally the black domino mask at the bottom of the pile.

He drags them to his chest, and then aims the most hopeful, _happy_ smile that I've ever seen on his face up at me. "Is this real?" he asks, and I give a nod and a small laugh.

"That's right, kitten. Give it a few weeks to get used to moving in that, and then you can come out with me on my next job." I pause, as he clutches the costume a little tighter, and then add, "Stray."

He laughs, and his eyes are bright as he asks, "Can I go try it on? Please?"

His enthusiasm is infectious, but I rein myself in. "In a minute, sweetheart." I push the wooden box to the side, and then shift the second present over to sit in front of him. "Open this one first, alright?"

He sets the pieces of his new costume down in his lap, and reaches for the second present. He's a lot less careful with this one, and I smile as he rips the paper, and then again as he pretty carelessly tosses it off to the side. He pauses briefly at the actual box — thin, barely an inch high — and then eases the lid off of it and sets that aside. It's the paper and pen inside that freezes him for a second, before he looks up at me.

"Are these…?"

I reach over, sliding my hand over his shoulder and then up along the back of his neck. He leans into my touch, but doesn't close his eyes this time. "Adoption papers," I confirm. "All they need is your signature, and then I can take them in and it can all be official." I watch as his hand rises, every movement slow as he picks up the stack of papers. "This is your decision, Jason. You don't have to do anything, remember that. Only do—"

"What I want to," he finishes, and then gives a small smile. "I know, Selina."

It almost stings to bring it up, but I comfort myself with the fact that Jason needs to know, and if I hide it he might not forgive me later. "There's something you need to know before you sign those," I murmur, and then carefully take the stack of paper from him. He looks up at me again, confused and maybe a little worried. I fish his birth certificate out from behind the rest of the papers, and set it in front of him. "There's a reason it took me so long to find your original records." I tap my finger at the line that should contain his mother's name; it's water damaged, but the first letter is clearly an S. "What you told me didn't match up, so I had to dig a little farther into the records."

He freezes up, staring at the paper in front of him. Then he swallows. "What did you find out?" he asks, his voice small and quiet.

I stroke my fingers up his neck, keeping my touch soft and soothing. "I found the hospital you were born at, and they had a copy of their own nearly lost in the archives. Your birth mother was named Sheila Haywood, but your father was married to someone else at that point; Catherine. I don't know exactly what happened, but it looks like you were conceived before they got together, and then Sheila came back with you. Your father ended up with you."

He shivers a bit, eyes squeezing shut for just a second. "Is she alive?" I can't pin the emotion in his voice, but I know my own heart clenches for a moment at the distant fear that Jason might choose to go after his original mother, instead of staying with me.

"As far as I could find out, yes. Abroad, volunteering with a humanitarian organization in the middle east."

Jason takes in a deep breath, and then reaches for the pen still sitting in the box. "Give me those," he almost demands, holding out his other hand for the adoption papers I still have.

I hand them over, and my breath catches tight in my throat as he works through the couple of pages, signing the highlighted portions that need it. Then he deliberately sets the pen down on top of them, and leans back in the chair. There's a certain finality to his movements, and I can see him relax once he's leaned back, his head ducking an inch or so as he sighs.

Then he's raising his head and looking up at me, reaching over to take my free hand in his. "I don't know her," he tells me, squeezing my hand, "and I don't need to. I have you… Mom."

 _Love_ burns into my chest, and I lean over and pull him into a tight hug. "Of course you do," I whisper, holding him close as I try and swallow away the prickle of tears in my eyes. "Of course you do, my _son_."

He clutches me close, and then laughs into my shoulder. "Jason Kyle; kind of a weird sound to it."

"I like it," I counter, and as I pull back I press a lingering kiss to the top of his head. "So, anything you want to do for the day. Just say the word, kitten."

Jason's smile is bright, clearly a bit overwhelmed but I can't believe that he's anything but absolutely happy. Not with that kind of an expression. He takes in another deep breath, gaze flicking down somewhere, and then that smile grows into a grin. "I want to try this on," he declares, reaching down and gathering the pieces of his costume up into his arms.

I let him go, and smile right back at him. "Go ahead, Jason."


	4. First Day Jitters

Welcome back! Not much to say about this chapter other then have fun, and enjoy!

* * *

It's the first thing I notice when I walk out of the school to have my lunch outside, happy to be out of the chairs from my classes and craving just a bit of fresh air before I have to go back in there. Everything seems to be fine, but there's a cluster of four kids from my class circled around a portion of the wall, and my mind automatically catalogues their body language as _bullying_. Not surprising, they're kind of a bunch of jackasses on the best of days, and of the fun group of kids that think their wealth makes them better than the people around them.

I consider just letting it happen, but then I get a flash of the kid boxed in against the wall in front of them. A couple years younger I think, shorter and smaller, but with an expression that looks somewhere between pissed off and about to do some serious violence. So I veer sideways, trying to make it seem at least a little accidental that I run across their group.

I can hear them before I'm close enough to intervene, the drawled, "Not gonna last here, new kid. You're not one of us just because you stumbled on some change, street rat."

"Good fucking thing," the kid snaps at the bullies. He's got guts; they're all at least half a head taller than he is, and thicker. "If you think I want to be one of you spoiled, lazy, bastards you're dead wrong."

One of the bullies starts to jerk forward, and the kid coils up like he's ready for violence. But, as I watch, he loosens right back out. The bully's fist hits the kid's cheek, and he snaps to the side but he's turning with the blow, minimizing the impact. He's _angry_ , and I can see his hands curling into fists, but he doesn't do anything else.

"You watch your mouth," the bully sneers, and that's when I finally get close enough to actually step in.

"Hey," I call, stopping at their backs. The leader turns to me, and the other three look back at me as well. "What's going on, guys?" I ask, feigning an ignorance I really don't have. Oh, how I sometimes hate what I have to allow to not clue anyone into who I really am.

"Mind your own business, _Dick_." Yeah, guess I should have expected that response. "Just teaching the new kid how things work here."

"Uh-huh." I push my free hand — the one not holding my lunch — into the pocket of my uniform. "Last I knew, violence was pretty strictly against the school rules. Just saying; pretty sure some of the teachers come out here for lunch too."

I can see the new kid tensing behind them, where they're not paying attention, and for just a second he looks like he's about to launch himself at their backs. Then he relaxes again, eyes squeezing shut like he's forcing himself to hold back. It's a little weird; why isn't he taking the advantage? Fighting might be prohibited, but they hit him first, and he'll have the bruise to prove it. He could get away with it, or at least book it while their backs are turned.

"Screw off, circus freak," one of the others snaps.

For a second, my smile falters. The words still sting, even if I learned to ignore bullies a long time ago. My eyes narrow just a little bit before I can control it, and then I force myself to relax and smile at them. They want to play the rich, entitled kid game? Oh, I can _play_.

I step closer, getting up in the bully's face with my most winning, camera-practiced smile. "That's not very nice," I say quietly. "How about you all apologize to me, and then to that nice new kid behind you?"

"Why the hell would we do that?" the leader says, his chest puffing up like the idea is personally offensive to him. "You forget how to count, Dickie?"

I make my smile just a little wider, and rock my weight forward a bit. He's a little taller than me, and yeah, it might hurt if he actually takes a swing — since I can't exactly stop him without revealing I'm more than I look like — but I can deal with thugs like him. No problem; Bruce taught me how.

"Only my friends get to call me that," I tell the bully, and tilt my head a bit to one side, "and I really don't count any of you on that list. And no, I haven't forgotten how to count. I remember how much your family's business is worth, and how much _mine_ is." He blinks, recoils about an inch, and I hold my smile and my not-entirely-threatening stance. "We went down this road before, remember? My father is _Bruce Wayne_ , who happens to be the one who pays for most of this school's funding. One word to him, through the principal, and I could get you thrown out."

"You wouldn't—"

" _One_ word," I repeat, and I watch him swallow. "You don't really want me to drag you out in front of a spotlight, do you?" His cronies are backing off a little bit, and I know he can see it out of the corners of his eyes because he takes a glance to either side. "Apologize," I press. "To me, and then to him."

The leader's teeth grind together, and I can see the kid staring at the two of us. He doesn't really look thankful, or even really impressed, he's just watching like he's memorizing what I'm doing. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" I ask. "You really think I need to, with the kind of resources I've got?" Thanks to Bruce, I know exactly how to play this game. All it takes is having more resources and connections than the other person. A more impressive name, and bigger parents, make all the difference.

The bully tenses up, and then, like it physically pains him, spits out, "Sorry." It's more of a curse than a real apology, but it'll do. I don't really need to make him feel anything, I just want him to back off before real violence happens. I can't stand by and watch a kid get beaten just because I can't reveal the kind of fighting skill I have. I won't.

"And him too," I remind the bully, nodding past him to the new kid.

His teeth grind again, but then he turns just enough that he can spit another, "Sorry," at the kid against the wall. Then he's moving, shoving past me. His minions follow him, and I bite my tongue behind my smile and don't go after him for the shove of my shoulder. I've dealt with a lot worse; I can handle a little bit of physical intimidation from a kid I could wipe the floor with.

I approach the new kid, who's touching his cheek with something like curiosity, and definitely what looks like disdain. "You alright?" I ask.

"Fine," he answers instantly, looking up at me. I'm a fair bit taller than he is — he's definitely a couple years younger than me — but he's got similar black hair, and blue eyes that are a tinge more green than mine. "I could have handled it myself; don't expect a favor or anything, _Wayne_."

I let my smile fade just a bit, down to something a little less suitable for charming paparazzi and middle aged women at parties. Something more natural. "It's Grayson, actually. Dick Grayson." I extend my hand for him to shake, and tell him, "I'm Bruce Wayne's ward, not his son. Still technically makes me the heir I guess."

The kid cautiously takes my hand and shakes it. He's got a strong grip. "Jason Kyle." I almost freeze up, but he's moving on before I get the chance to really react to that _name_. "Guess you heard; I'm new."

"Yeah," I manage, and then get myself together enough to ask, "Wait, 'Kyle'? As in Selina?"

He lets go of my hand, and that wariness is bright in his eyes, but he doesn't look worried. "That's right. What's it to you?"

He doesn't have her facial structure, and his hair might be black like hers but he just doesn't look even a bit like her apart from that. Sure, his eyes have got some green hidden in there behind the blue, but genetics don't work like that. This can't be her natural kid, and Bruce and I would have _known_ if she was pregnant anyway. Bruce is way too interested in her to miss something like that, even if this kid looks older than their weird back and forth. Oh god, this kid can't be _Bruce's_ , can it?

No, no way. Not the same facial structure as Bruce either, and I don't _think_ they were doing their weird 'sex on rooftops that I'm not supposed to know about' dance long enough ago to have a kid this old. There's no way Bruce would have missed something like this, anyway. He's a little more observant than that, usually. This kid's what, thirteen? Fourteen? That'd be a long time to miss the existence of a whole person.

So adoption then. How did we miss that? It must have been quiet, because if it was in the news one of us would have picked up on this kid's existence before I ran into him face to face. Why would Selina adopt a kid? She's never struck me as the mother type, and she's pretty singularly obsessed with Bruce so what would be the point of adding some kid to the equation? Does she think that it will make him like her more — or something — if she proves she can be a mother? Or… I don't know; trying to puzzle out her obsession with Bruce, and his with her, always gives me a headache.

"Nothing," I reassure the kid. "Just didn't know Selina had a son; usually I know about that kinda stuff." Jason's eyes narrow a little bit, and I smile a bit wider in response. "Selina's a good friend of my Dad's; they talk."

He looks like he's about to say something, but then his lips press together. "Sure they do," he mutters, and then shrugs. "Thanks for the help, I guess. I didn't need it though; you should just keep to your own business."

Not real friendly, is he? Probably a good idea to get close to him though, in case he's planning on being involved with Selina's nighttime activities, or there's something strange going on that we'll need to stop. Maybe he's just having first day jitters; the other kid did call him 'street rat,' which has to mean Selina got him from one of the rougher neighborhoods. His slight accent and language backs that up. How did the other kids in my class know more than I do? I thought I was the one with the detective back up and the honed observational skills.

"Don't mind them," I say, with a shrug to match his. "They're assholes, but they've got no real power in here."

He straightens up, and then his eyes narrow. "You think I'm scared of _them?_ " he says, and then snorts. "Yeah right; they're not half as scary as the kids I knew back in—" He cuts off, looks wary for a second, like he thinks I'm going to react badly to whatever he was about to say, and then tenses a little bit and finishes, "Crime Alley."

Oh, now _that_ would explain the attitude, and why the bullies targeted him. "Why not fight back then?" I ask, letting the mention of his home neighborhood slide right past without comment. "You don't have to take that from them."

He snorts again, scuffs at the grass and dirt beneath his heel. "Oh yeah, because when we all get dragged in front of a teacher, they're going to believe that _I_ didn't start it." He glares at me for a second, and then spits, "Fuck off with your privilege, rich kid," and turns to leave.

"Woah, hey, wait." I consider grabbing for his arm, decide it's a bad idea, and then decide it's also exactly what my naive persona would do. So I grab his upper arm, tugging to pull him back. He _almost_ hits me, I can see it in his eyes and the way he tenses up, but then he does that thing again where he forces himself loose.

"What?" he snaps, shrugging me off of his arm. I try not to let my reaction show to the fact that I felt hard muscle underneath the sleeve of his class uniform, and not just muscle, but the kind of muscle that comes from real hard work.

"Share lunch with me?" I offer, holding up my free hand in surrender. He looks unconvinced, and I give another shrug as I consider what to tell him to win at least a chance to get closer to him. I settle on saying, "I hit them back."

I can see that slight flicker of surprise in his eyes, and then he turns a bit back towards me. "What happened?" he asks, and I laugh.

"I got in a lot of trouble," I admit. "Mostly with Alfred, my Dad's butler." I puff up my chest, and do a purposefully bad impression of a British accent to announce, "Young Master Dick! Violence is not an appropriate method of dealing with bullies!" Jason's mouth flickers into what almost looks like a smirk, and I give another laugh and duck my head a little bit. "Then Bruce found out, and he went all billionaire bluster on the school and threatened to sue them if they didn't clean up their act and stop all of it."

"Is that right?" Jason says, sounding unimpressed but maybe a little amused. "Waved all that money around, huh?"

"Well, it worked." I make a face. "Sorta. They didn't _physically_ go after me again. Anyway, I'm sure if you tell Selina what happened she'll do the same thing. More or less." I offer a small grin "Nothing like a rich, pissed off parent, right?"

That amusement vanishes, and I realize what I've said wrong about a second before he spits, "I don't _want_ anyone stepping in for me."

Before he can get any more offended, I admit, "I didn't either. She's gonna see the bruise when you get home anyway, not much you can do. Think she's gonna believe that you tripped and fell?" He's the one to make a face this time, something grimacing but just a little resigned. "Come on, come have lunch with me, Jason. The right friends make all the difference in this place."

"And you're one of them?" This time he sounds disbelieving, but he's not walking away and he doesn't sound inherently antagonistic, so it works for me. "I didn't ask for a friend, Dick. Jeez, is that _really_ your name?"

This time my laugh is actually real, and my grin is a little more natural. "Richard, but yeah, it's Dick. I know a shady place to sit; you coming?"

He considers me for another second, and then shrugs and nods. "Sure, I guess. Why not?" Then his mouth presses together for a second in a small glare, and he points at my chest as he faces me a little more directly. "So we're clear, I'm not promising anything."

"Never asked you to." I smile, and take a step back so I can turn and lead the way. "Let's go then, Jason."

* * *

"You really think she's going to be here?" I ask, and then almost immediately regret asking as Bruce turns one of his more disciplinary glares towards me. The 'be quiet' one. "Alright, nevermind," I mutter, shifting back and forth on my heels. "Guess you know her better than I do."

It's a museum below us, sure, but there's nothing cat-themed in there, and nothing I saw in the lists of their antiquities that sounds especially appealing for Catwoman to steal. She does work for hire sometimes, or just steals to fence things, but I don't know why it would be this museum on this night. Bruce hasn't shared _that_ information with me, just the flat facts that he thinks she'll show up to break in, and we're going to stay here either until she does, or something else needs our attention.

I wish I'd brought food or something to nibble on while I wait. I _really_ hope this doesn't turn out to be another one of those stake outs where nothing actually happens, and it turns out that we wasted a good five or six hours — or more; _god_ I have school in the morning — for absolutely nothing. They happen, and that's not an issue because sometimes things like that really are just part of the job, but I like to at least know the reason why I'm sitting out on a night watching a building. I trust Bruce's information, but that doesn't mean I don't like to _know_ that he's got a solid lead, and know what it is. It would not be unheard of for him to take us on a wild goose chase just for the chance of meeting up with Selina.

I'm really not up for another night where I get sent off to 'gather evidence' for a crime we're not even going to pursue, while Bruce has his weird flirty thing with Selina. I'm just really not up for dealing with Selina and Bruce's weird thing at all, right now.

I lean back against the building's wall, shifting my weight on the window ledge and trying to ignore the way my legs are starting to go a little stiff from not moving. I'm not built to stay still; I just don't feel right unless I'm moving, or shifting, or something. I can manage stillness, when I really want to or it's necessary, but I just feel so much better when I'm moving. I don't get how Bruce can just settle into a position and not move for hours at a time; it's not in my blood like it's in his.

"Can I run the perimeter?" I ask, with a glance down at his crouched figure. "Or can you at least tell me why you're so sure?"

A second of silence, with not even a glance up at me, and then he straightens in one slide of movement. "She's here," he says in his low growl, instead of answering me or even acknowledging that I said something. I roll my eyes, and brush aside the irritation at Bruce and his total lack of communication skills. I've dealt with it for years, I can deal with it now.

He leaps off the ledge first, and I follow about a second behind, so our lines don't get tangled and I don't end up crashing into his back. It's one swing down to the museum's roof, a roll to get back on our feet, and then he's striding towards a black figure at an open roof entrance, the long graceful form just standing up and away from it.

"Catwoman!" he barks, as I stay at his heels and try not to comment on his total lack of stealth when it comes to all interactions with _Selina_.

She turns in a flash of movement, sinking to a half crouch, and then straightens up in the next second. I can see the smile on her face from here, the curl of her lips and the glint of her teeth. There's a lot of danger in that smile, and a whole lot more in the way she's standing. Not aggressively, but poised, and I can see the glint of claws at the end of her hands, one of which is very close to the handle of her whip. _Wow_ does that thing hurt when it actually hits, though maybe not as much as her claws.

"Batman," she purrs, "and the little Robin too. Nice to see you, darling."

There's a bag on her hip, opposite the whip, and it doesn't look like there's anything in it but if the item's small… Was she already here, or did she just arrive? She was standing up from the entrance when I first saw her, which makes me think she was already in there, this is just her exit plan, and she already has whatever she came here for. I'm pretty sure there were some valuable, small items in the list I saw of what was in there.

"Whatever you have," Bruce growls, "hand it over and I'll forget you were here." So, he thinks that she was coming out too.

She gives a rich laugh, a wink, and then her weight shifts back onto her left heel as she blows Bruce a kiss. "Make me, darling," she challenges, and then she's running. Bruce is a fraction of a second behind her.

I smother a sigh, and take the time to head over and close the rooftop entrance. It's not locked anymore, and I haven't got a key for this particular one, but at least now it isn't just open and waiting for someone else to waltz in. I can put a call in to the museum security and remind them to relock it when I've got a second.

Then I head after the two of them, tracking the shadows of their figures as I try and gain ground. It doesn't work _really_ well — they're both bigger than I am, and Selina's faster than us both — but I at least keep pace, and make up any small fractions of time devoted to swings of the whip or her claws to keep Bruce back.

It's a while before he manages to actually slow her down, and give me the time to catch up. It's a yank of her whip to drag her closer before she lets go of it that does it, and then the flare of his cape to try and trap her against a wall before she can run off again. It only _barely_ works, and gives me enough time to come skidding in and then do a handstand flip through her path to cut her off. She backpedals a couple of steps, and then Bruce is there.

She grunts at the impact with the wall of the rooftop maintenance building she's been flung into. She almost recovers in time, but in the end Bruce gets one hand around both of her wrists and slams them to the concrete above her head, his arm angled down far enough that she can't dig her claws into him at all. Delicate balance; I've watched his wrists and hands get clawed enough times from trying to pin her down. I manage to stop the last of my momentum at the same time that Bruce presses close as he can to her.

I'm _sure_ it's just so he can make sure she doesn't knee him or something. Yeah, definitely.

Selina's mouth is back in that curved smile, and she arches off the wall and into Bruce. I try not to see any of it, even as I force myself to watch just in case Bruce misses some kind of new blade in her shoes or something. Though honestly, I'm really more than prepared for Bruce to snap and tell me to go check out the museum and leave them alone. I know exactly what I'll come back to if he does. A scratched cheek or jaw, a curl to his shoulders that's something like self-disgust and masochism, and no Selina.

I'm already gearing for all of that when Bruce growls, "Check the bag."

It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me, but then I jolt forward to obey. I circle around them, reaching in to grab the cloth bag from Selina's hip, and open it. I pull it open to peer inside, then reach in to fish around, and finally fold and flatten it between my hands to make absolutely sure.

Then I'm confident enough to say, "There's nothing in here."

Selina's smile is supremely satisfied. _Absurdly_ satisfied, actually. She knows something that we don't, or— "Guess you'll just have to search me a little more _personally_ , Batman." _Or_ she's going to do something like that. Oh for the love of—

Of course Bruce takes her up on it, switching his grip on her wrists to just one hand before lowering the other. Out of respect, and decency, and way more than a little of being fed up with the two of them and their games, I turn away. I am _not_ going to stand there and watch Bruce grope her, even if it's supposedly a totally professional search. Hint; it's not.

It feels like too long for just a search — another reason I'm so not turning around — but eventually Bruce growls a, "She's clean."

I turn back around at the same time as Selina purrs, "Oh, I'm _never_ clean, darling." I _don't_ want to know the details, or anything. I want to forget they even do this thing; it would be so much better if they either flat out got together or just stopped. _So_ much better. "I mean, I suppose I could have left it somewhere while we were running." Selina's voice is teasing and flirtatious, and clearly anticipatory. "I suppose you'll just have to keep me with you until you find out, won't you, Batman?"

"You didn't," he snaps, and then I swallow back a sigh of relief when he lets her go and steps away. "Stay out of trouble tonight," he demands, doing his looming intimidation thing that _never_ works on her. "If I see you anywhere near that museum for the rest of the week—"

"You'll just have to catch me again," she finishes, with another wink. "See you around, darling."

That's all he gets before she's loping across the rooftop and diving off the top of the building. Thankfully. I wouldn't have been even a little surprised if she tried to take a kiss from him before she left, and I really wouldn't have wanted to watch that either. Their flirting is bad enough, I don't want to have to see the actual action either. Any of it. No matter how small.

Bruce is staring the direction she's gone, and I wait for him to get his head away from her and back to the job. Until I get tired of waiting, and prompt, "Should we head back to the museum, make sure that she really didn't take anything. Check the cameras?"

"And get the employees to lock the roof entrance," is Bruce's contribution, as he finally turns towards me. "I'll meet you there; I'm going to take a slower pass back along the route we took and make sure she didn't drop anything. I didn't see it, but if she did…"

And he's totally not going to go after her. Right. "Okay. I'll see you back at the museum." I'm not sticking around to watch him do his obsession thing, not while there's work to do.

I head back to the museum, and then take a loop around it so I can find a security guard to talk to. It takes me two tries, before I spot a small group of them actually hanging out on the roof, and not down on ground level where I expected them to be. They're at that roof entrance too, where Selina was either about to go in or just coming out, and the body language on them tells me that they're frustrated and worried. Looks like something did happen after all.

I climb up next to them, and they turn to look at me. At least a couple glances. "Hey, guys!" I offer a smile as I move closer. "Found it open, hm? Sorry, we chased Catwoman down already."

One of them straightens up sharply, and then steps towards me. "So you got back the missing pieces?"

I stop, and there's a deep sense of doom that I get before I bite back a sigh and ask, "What missing pieces? She didn't have anything." The reaction of the group tells me that that's really not the answer they wanted to hear. "Did the cameras-"

"Running a loop of last night," one of them grumbles, sinking down to sit on the edge of that hatch and rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Nothing."

Oh _hell_. "She didn't have anything," I repeat. "Batman's taking a pass over where he chased her to see if she dropped anything. Do you know what happened?"

A different guard, one still standing, shakes his head. "Louie found the hatch unlocked when he was doing his round, just a couple of minutes ago. There's a couple of artifacts missing from our newest exhibit, but no one saw anything of the actual heist."

"How big were the artifacts?" I ask, resisting the urge to brace my hands on my hips.

The one that hasn't spoken yet gives me a weird look, but then offers, "One's about the size of a head. The other one's a little bigger."

Shit. That means that there's no way that she dropped either of them along her route; they'd be too big to hide from us during that run, we would have seen her carrying them. So, maybe she left it hidden somewhere inside the museum? Or there's evidence somewhere of what she did? Maybe she'd already deposited them somewhere and was heading back to clean up the evidence when we discovered her? Either way, this just got a lot more complicated as a heist to solve.

"Mind if I take a look around the museum?" I get a few shakes of heads, and offer a smile. "Great. I'll see if I can find those artifacts for you." I slip through them, and head down through the hatch. Nothing catches my eye at first glance, as I make my way down, and with no one to watch me I let myself sigh. Then, I activate the com in my ear. "Batman, you there?"

I get a grunt of affirmation.

"There are a couple pieces missing from the newest exhibit," I tell him. "The smaller one was as big as a normal head; there's no way she had them when we were chasing her. I'm taking a sweep through the museum now, to see if I can find where she might have stored them before coming out. Nothing so far." I pause a moment, and then offer, "You think she already dropped them somewhere, and was just coming back to clean up when we found her?"

 _"No,"_ he answers, after a second. _"She wouldn't bother coming back; the artifacts are still missing. There's no way to hide that. Check the rest of the building, I'll be there in just a few minutes._ "

My mind snaps back to that first day of the school year at Gotham Academy — was that really just three days ago? Feels like longer — and the kid I met. Jason. Jason _Kyle_. Oh, no. Does he have something to do with this? Is he helping her and we just don't know it yet? I don't think Bruce even knows he exists yet; if he does he hasn't brought it up to me. If Jason is involved in Selina's business, wouldn't there be evidence of it, or something? Wouldn't we have seen a second figure come out behind Selina?

I actually like Jason, even with that attitude he's got, so I really hope that he's not part of Selina's theft. I can give him the benefit of the doubt, right? I don't have to just immediately believe that he's involved, instead I can wait, and see if maybe I find the missing artifacts hidden somewhere in the museum. I don't want to believe that Jason is a part of this, even if he does have the muscle, and the attitude, and is the adopted son of Catwoman.

No. I can wait and give him the benefit of the doubt. Definitely. I need evidence, or reasonable suspicion, or _something_ before I start pointing fingers. So I'll sweep the museum first, talk with Bruce to see what else she might have done, check their security system, and — if _all_ of that fails — then I'll start thinking about what-ifs.

Not before.

* * *

"Catwoman!"

I freeze just below the hatch, my head snapping up to look out it. That's kind of an unmistakable growl of a shout, even if I've never come face to face with it before. Batman. Oh _shit_.

Selina is whirling around, but then the next second she's straightening up. "Batman," she says, confirming my suspicion, "and the little Robin too." _Damnit_. "Nice to see you, darling."

Slowly, working totally off of instinct, I start edging my way back down the ladder and into the museum. I stay as silent as I possibly can, and get far enough down that I'm not in immediate view. It also means that I can't see up and out to whatever they're doing, but that's alright for now. I can still hear them, because I'm close enough to catch it when Batman — closer this time, not in a shout but still a growl — speaks again, every bit of his tone threatening.

"Whatever you have, hand it over and I'll forget you were here."

Whatever she has…? But, Selina doesn't have anything. _I_ do. I've got the bag with our two stolen artifacts, not her. Can't they see she doesn't have anything on her or in her bag? It looked obviously empty to me, but do they think that she just took something really small, or something? Alright, whatever the case, they don't know I'm here. Not yet, anyway. Robin's up there, but they haven't figured out that I'm out with Selina or they would have already dropped down to try and get me. At the least, I'd be hearing a scuffle or something. No way Selina would just let them pass her by and get to me, not without a fight.

I can hear Selina laugh, and press my back a little harder against the wall. One flimsy corner separating me from Batman and Robin doesn't seem like nearly enough. I'm not _scared_ of them, I swear I'm not, but they're kind of the enforcers and yeah, I'm definitely in the middle of something illegal. I thought I was ready to be out here, and I thought I was ready to go up against the two of them if I had to, but now I'm not so sure. Alright, that growl is pretty seriously scary. I'll admit that. I knew Batman was scary in person — heard a lot of stories — but I didn't think that it would affect _me_ , not after Selina's training.

I could totally take Robin, couldn't I?

Selina's words ring in my mind, from all the times that she's mentioned or talked about Robin to me. Specifically, I remember her telling me that Robin would almost undoubtedly kick my ass the first few times I ran into him, and that I shouldn't be ashamed of that. Robin's been doing this for a long time, he's got experience and skill that I don't, and it would make sense that he would be able to beat me. So, I really _shouldn't_ head up on that rooftop next to Selina. I should stay down here, and trust her to do her work and spin the situation whatever way she wants it to go. I don't know if she wants the two of them knowing about me just yet.

"Make me, darling," Selina says, anticipation and challenge in her voice. I don't know exactly what happens next, but then suddenly the hatch around the corner is banging shut.

I lean down and set my full bag down on the ground, activate my claws, and spin around the corner ready to shred whoever is coming. No one, as it turns out. The hatch is closed again, but there's no one on the ladder, and no one heading down to find me. I listen for a second, but don't hear anything from up above.

I nearly jump out of my skin when the com Selina gave me crackles to life in my ear, strangling back a swear and distracting myself from the fright by manually deactivating the claws on my gloves to slide them back into their sheaths. "Forgot you gave me this," I admit, leaning down to pick the bag back up.

" _They're chasing me,_ " Selina says, a simple enjoyment in her voice that's easy to read even though it sounds like she's speaking in a hushed voice. " _Head home with the prizes, kitten. I'll keep them busy long enough for you to get clear._ "

"Got it," I answer, keeping my voice hushed. "Be careful, alright?"

She laughs through the link, and the sound does relax me a bit. " _Relax, kitten. Batman would never really hurt me. I'll see you at home, sweetheart._ "

"See you there," I answer. The com crackles back off, and I take in a deep breath and heft the bag again. I climb the ladder, and then take my time to very carefully crack open the hatch and peer out. The rooftop looks deserted, so I push it a little further and then climb out. Another quick glance reassures me that I'm alone.

So I book it. I run across the rooftop, and take the straightest path I can find back to Selina's apartment. I'm sure that she led them the opposite direction; it should be perfectly safe. I mean, safe is relative, but no one should mess with me as long as I'm careful to stay on the rooftops, and mostly out of sight. This is Gotham, you don't mess with random masked people on rooftops if you want your night to go smoothly. At least not unless you've also got a mask.

It's strange to be climbing up into Selina's apartment on my own, but I remember everything she taught me. It's not that hard of a climb, and once I hook the bag to my belt it's even easier. True, it unbalances me, but I've gotten used to that at least a little bit. The two nearly priceless things in the bag aren't that heavy, they're just expensive as hell and a little delicate, which is why they're wrapped in enough stuffing to keep them together and undamaged as long as I'm careful. Or at least, not reckless.

I slip inside the doors and head to Selina's bedroom, slipping our bag of stolen stuff down into one of her more secure hiding places. I don't think it would survive Batman taking a look around the place, but it might survive just a perusal, or the actual cops searching the place. Unless they had help. Oh man, Batman and Robin aren't going to stop by Selina's apartment after they realize that a few pieces are missing from the museum, are they? I mean, they'll at least wait until tomorrow or something?

Would they intrude on Selina's home to check? Or is that kind of the point?

I know that these won't be here long. Selina's got some buyer lined up, and she's promised to walk me through it from a distance so I know how the actual fencing works. But just for tonight, is she actually thinking of luring Batman and Robin to our home when they realize she actually stole something? She would have told me, wouldn't she? She wouldn't just drop me headfirst into meeting the two of them, she'd at least give me a heads up about it first, or give me time to hide. I trust her more than that, and her strange relationship with Batman aside, I don't think she'd jeopardize whatever her plans are for me, just to spend more time with him. Probably.

I head back out into the main living room, sinking down on the couch and resting my head on the back of it, so I can stare out the stretch of glass windows and off the balcony, where Selina will be coming in. She can't come through the front door in full costume — not as easily, anyway — so she'll take the same route I did. Climb the side of the building, and come in through the balcony door. It's the easiest way in and out; I did the climb a few times in preparation before Selina let me out tonight.

Running into Batman and Robin on my very first night out. Now there's some luck. Good or bad I'm not sure, but it's one hell of a coincidence to run into them the very first night I ever go out as Stray.

I kind of wish that I'd gotten a look at Robin.

It's not that long before Selina slips over the side of the balcony, tucking away her whip and grapnel as she straightens up and walks towards the actual door. I raise my head a bit, and then roll my way off the couch as she comes in. A flick of her hand to the side as she closes the door darkens the windows — it's her nighttime security system against peeping Bats — with one press to the control panel inlaid in the frame of the door, and she gives me a smile. I can't help but smile back.

"Shake them?" I ask, resisting the urge to peer past her in some kind of attempt to see if they're coming over the balcony too. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because the windows are dark now and I couldn't see out the windows even if anyone else was out there. So I keep her gaze instead, hovering near the back of the couch and waiting for her to make her way over.

She gives another smile as she walks towards me, her posture easy and relaxed. "Oh, they didn't follow. Not after he realized I didn't have anything on me. I'm sure they're combing over the museum right now, looking for what we took." Her hands come forward, flipping back my hood before she leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Everything make it back safely?"

I nod. "Yep. All stored away."

"And you?" she asks. She flicks her gaze down and then back up me, one gloved hand tracing back down behind my ear. I automatically lean into it.

"Yeah," I say with a snort, "I'm here too."

She gives a soft laugh, sliding her arm around my shoulders and pulling me around and to her side. "I noticed that," she teases. I let her pull me along as she circles the couch, and then drag me down with her to sprawl along it. She pulls me right up against her, wrapping her arms around my chest and holding me close. It's not amazingly comfortable, not with all of our gear still on, but it's not so bad. She's warm even through the layers of armor, and with my hood back she's already pulled one hand up to comb through my hair. "Did you have fun tonight, kitten?"

I relax against her, tilting my head back into her hand and giving a soft, satisfied sound. I consider the night — the thrill of bypassing all of the museum's security, the shock of adrenaline when Batman and Robin showed up — and then lean into Selina and give a grin as I close my eyes. "Yeah. Yeah I did."

" _That's_ my Stray," Selina says, and her tone feels so _proud_ that my grin gets a little bit wider.

Then it clicks for me, and I take a sharp breath in as it actually really solidifies in my head what just happened. "We _fooled Batman_." Selina laughs, and then squeezes me tighter against her. "Selina, no, we _fooled_ Batman and Robin. That's so cool! We took something from _right_ under their nose. We _won_."

She presses a kiss to the side of my head, even as she laughs. "That's right, Jay. We'll be millions richer too, which is a nice bonus. And _you_ get half of that, kitten."

I freeze up a little bit, and then twist my head to look up at her. "Are you serious?" _Millions_? For _me_? No way; I have to be misunderstanding her. She wouldn't actually give me half of whatever we make on these things, would she?

"Of course I am," she murmurs, and _oh_ , I guess I wasn't misunderstanding her. "You did half the work, didn't you, kitten? I led them on the chase, but you're the one that got our prizes home safe, and did the actual theft as well. You deserve half the reward, sweetheart."

"That's—" I swallow, the idea lodging in my throat and sticking there. "That's a _lot_ of money," I point out, as if she doesn't know. Of course she knows it's a lot of money; she _has_ a lot of money. Unless it's such a small amount to her that she doesn't care if I get half of it, because it would make such a small dent in her own finances. I think it's more money than I've ever seen. All of it combined.

Jesus, that thought scares me a bit.

Selina's fingers trace along the back of my neck, and it drains a bit of tension out of me on automatic, but I'm still watching her. I can't stop. "I know," she says softly, with an equally soft smile. "You did the work, you get the payoff too, Jason. I'm not going to take what you earned from you; it's yours." She shifts a bit, pulling me a little more on top of her. "We'll get you an account set up, and every job we pull together, you get half of whatever we come out with. Understand that? You're my partner, kitten, not just a sidekick."

I have to swallow again, turning myself to curl into her side and her chest. "What the hell would I do with that much?" I ask, closing my eyes and trying to think about it. _Millions_. What the hell would I do with millions of dollars? I don't even know what I would do with a couple hundred, which is about the biggest amount I can imagine in my hands. What can you possibly do with that much money?

"Whatever you want," Selina tells me. "Buy what you want, save it, or give it away. It's your money, sweetheart, so it's your choice. We'll go get an account set up for you tomorrow, as soon as I've passed off our score and gotten the payment for us. It's yours."

Selina's bought everything I've ever needed here, and even just what she's gotten me has felt like too much. I don't need any of it, it's just nice to have. I'm constantly confused by how much food is in her kitchen, and how many clothes she has. I understand the cat food, and all of that, but the extravagance of this place just doesn't quite make sense in my head. It never has, and I'm not sure it ever will.

I suppose I could… Yeah, I could give it away. I know a lot of the charities running down in Crime Alley don't actually do anything, but there are a couple that do good work. Things like that can always use more funding, I remember that from my time down there. I could pour whatever I end up with to them, or find some other charity I don't know of that actually works. I'm sure _someone_ knows the places that aren't corrupt as hell.

I take in a deep breath, shove it out, and then murmur, "Alright. I don't know why anyone would ever need that much, but alright."

"No one _needs_ it," Selina corrects, "but it's nice to have extra. Like I said, whatever you want to do with that extra is your choice, kitten. I won't tell you how to spend what you get, I'm just going to make sure that you get what you deserve. I'll never cheat you, sweetheart." I look up in time to catch the edge of a sharp smile, and then she leans down and kisses the top of my head. "That's what we do to _other_ people." I smile, and then she's nudging me up and away from her. "Come on, let's get dressed in something more comfortable and waste a couple hours with a movie. I could use a bit of time to wind down before sleeping; what about you?"

"Yeah," I agree. "That sounds good."


	5. Touché

Welcome back! Oh man, long weekend. Anyway, I have another chapter for you! So this has what you guys have been kinda waiting for; Stray and Robin legitimately meeting. Enjoy!

* * *

I scrub my hand over my face, watching Bruce's back as he settles down in front of his computer and turns the screens on. He's not happy, I can tell that much. Selina managed to slip one by us, took a couple of high price items and left us grasping at straws to figure out how. Bruce is pissed, and this is going to suck, but unfortunately I'm the one holding the straw that's almost undoubtedly the actual answer to this.

I consider stripping out of my suit and grabbing a shower before I approach Bruce, but decide against it. It's probably some stupid psychological thing, but it feels a bit safer to tell Bruce I withheld information from him while I'm still Robin, and not just Dick Grayson. He's going to be angry, and disappointed, but maybe being Robin will make it a little easier to handle. Maybe still being behind this mask will make it hurt a little less.

Crossing the room feels a bit like approaching my own doom, but I manage to come up behind Bruce and to his right, standing far enough away that his legs won't hit me when he turns around. Which he will. _Shit_ , I wish I didn't have to do this.

"What?" Bruce snaps, before I can even say anything. His tone is almost enough to make me wince.

A nervous part of me says I should wait until he's in a better mood before bringing this up, but I shut it down and steel myself. "There's something I need to tell you," I offer.

He stills for a second, and then yeah, he's turning. Slowly, intimidation in full effect because he knows just by my tone that he's not going to like what I'm about to say. His arms set down on the arms of his chair, shoulders pressing back into the chair and his mouth in a thin line. Even with all the practice I've had weathering Bruce's mood when he's pissed off, it still makes me tense up a little bit, my shoulders rising in automatic defensive posture. He's just radiating a displeased anger, and I don't have any of my own temper to combat it with. Not yet anyway. Experience tells me that if this becomes a fight, we'll both end up shouting at each other. It'll be easier then, when I'm pissed off too and not just guilty because I know that I've messed up.

"Then tell me," he growls, in one of his lower pitched tones.

I fight the urge to bury my hands in pockets I don't have, or duck my head away from his preparatory anger. There won't be any escaping it, not now. "A couple of days ago, when the school year started, I ran into a kid. He was being harassed by some bullies in my class, and I stepped in." Bruce is watching me, reserving his words until I get to my point. I force myself to continue. "He introduced himself as Jason Kyle." _There's_ the tension, the clench of his hands over the ends of the chair's arms. "He's Selina's adopted son, he said he was born in Crime Alley."

The way Bruce stands is slow, deliberate, and I steel myself and manage not to step back as he straightens up to his full height. His cowl came off the second we were out of the car, so I'm getting the full force of those narrowed blue eyes staring down at me. I'm pretty sure he's _furious_ , and not all of it's with me but I just made myself a target so now it's aimed at me anyway. I'm not going to be able to get out of this now. I'm just going to have to endure however much he's going to shout at me, and try to defend myself as best I can.

He's not speaking yet though, he's still waiting, and I understand that it's because he wants me to finish my point. So I do. "It's _possible_ ," I stress that word, "that Selina's taken him on as a protege, and he's the one that stole the items while we were distracted with her. It would make sense of the fact that we know she didn't have them at any point while we chasing her, and that she doesn't usually come back to clean up her own crime scenes after dropping off her take."

His shoulders curl a bit, and I recognize the slight flare of his cape as he steps forward but that doesn't mean that it doesn't still intimidate me. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he demands.

I curl my hands to fists just to give myself the ability to stand up to him a little more, and raise my chin to meet his gaze. The mask _does_ help a bit. "I didn't have any evidence one way or another, and he's a nice enough kid. Rough around the edges, but I thought it might be possible that he was just a kid that Selina took in out of kindness."

It's the wrong thing to say, and I know that before I say it, but it's also the truth. Bruce's jaw clenches down, and I can see his hands curl to fists too. "Selina does not take in _charity_ cases. Either the boy is hers, or he's useful to her."

My stomach clenches up with a slightly sick feeling, and I clench my jaw for a second too but hold his gaze. "He's not hers. They're both black haired but he doesn't have her face."

He turns to the computer, and I can see him type in Jason's name. A few things pop up, and I close my eyes for a second because they're news articles. Recent, with hurried snapshots of Jason at the gates of Gotham Academy in the school uniform, with Selina standing next to him, one hand in the center of his back. It's a bit blurry, but the expression between them is easy to read even at a glance. Jason is smiling, _really_ smiling, which is something I've never seen him do, as he looks up at Selina. Selina's hand on his back is gentle, between his shoulder blades, and she's got a soft smile on her face too.

I've seen her public smiles before; that isn't one of them. That one's real. As far as I can see, she really does care for Jason, and he cares for her too. Where does that fit into Bruce's view of the world? Of her?

He scans the article, and I look enough to catch the story that Selina adopted Jason about half a month ago, completely under the radar. That he's a kid from Crime Alley that no one's ever heard of before, except for a few small records. Original name, Jason Todd. Father locked away in a prison halfway across the country for years now, a mother that overdosed and died shortly after, and a lot of blank space between that and today that no one can account for. I can put the pieces together, but it's not pretty.

Crime Alley kids don't usually have anywhere to go, so with that string of bad luck the most likely option is that Jason's been on the streets for that in between time. Surviving however he had to, which could be anything from running messages, small time theft, lower work for gangs, or... Things a lot worse. His school records stopped, and there are no arrest records for him, so the system never got a hold of him. That doesn't mean the cops never picked him up, but I've seen some of what can happen to the people cops want to punish but don't want to bother persecuting.

That's not even taking into account what his home life might have been like before the loss of his parents. Drug addict mother, criminal father. It might have been an alright life, but chances are good that it wasn't. Considering that, I'm actually kind of impressed that he's as relatively normal as he seems to be. Rough, antagonistic sometimes, and definitely standoffish, but he still socializes just fine, and he doesn't seem to be having any real problems fitting in except for the class difference. I haven't seen him in his classes, but he seems smart enough so far, and every once in awhile he'll say some word that seems too old for him. I don't know if it's just chance or if he's got a good vocabulary though. Hard to say.

Bruce looks through another two articles — the same information, no one knows anything more — then turns to me. "What do you know about him?" If anything, he sounds more angry than before. But this time he's got that restrained edge to his voice, the one that I know means he's biting back that anger until he knows all the facts and can decide on a response. I'd really rather he just yell at me and get it over with.

"Not much," I answer. "Just what I told you, and what's on those articles. He doesn't talk about himself much, and pretty much nothing about Selina or his past." I lift one shoulder a bit, in something like a shrug. "I was in the middle of trying to be his friend, to see if I could get him to give me any information, or slip up. Nothing so far." I pause, as Bruce watches me, and then grit my teeth together for a second before I decide to say, "He's a good kid, Bruce. If he really is working with Selina, he could have beat the hell out of the bullies that cornered him that first day. He didn't; he took a punch from one of them."

Bruce steps towards me, and I have to brace myself so I don't back off in the face of his anger. _Now_ it's really starting to show. "You should have told me the _second_ that you knew he existed," Bruce growls. "You should know better than to hide things from me, Dick. If I'd known Selina could have an apprentice, we might have prevented tonight's theft. _You_ made it possible for her to win."

I wince, but manage to keep myself from stepping back. I know that Bruce would never hit me, would _never_ hurt me on purpose, but I know that words can hurt just about as bad as a fist, if they're aimed the right way. "I didn't mean to— I'm sorry, Bruce, but I don't think I was wrong."

 _That_ gets me his attention real fast. " _Excuse_ me?"

I swallow, but force myself to stand up straight and face Bruce. "He's only fourteen," I stress. "I wasn't going to condemn him just because he was a criminal's kid, Bruce; there are _plenty_ of kids with criminal parents that don't turn out that way."

"And plenty who _do_ ," he counters. "You _know_ the kind of person Selina is, Dick."

"Not as well as _you_ do," I snap. His eyes narrow a little further, but it doesn't affect me that much. Not now that _I'm_ angry too. Oh, he really wants to bring up _knowing_ Selina? Into _this?_ "Maybe we could have caught her right at the start instead of you announcing you were there before we were anywhere close enough!"

Bruce's voice is flat and uncompromising as he grinds out, "That's not relevant to this, Dick."

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" It's almost a shout, but I strangle it down. "Oh, so you'll let Selina walk away just because she doesn't actually have what she stole on her — even though we caught her _literally_ standing over the open door into the museum — but when it comes to one fourteen year old kid he's automatically guilty?!" I step forward, anger blanking out the normal effect of his intimidation and letting me get into Bruce's face. "Maybe people deserve a chance before you judge them, Bruce!"

The slow curl of his hands to fists almost makes me rethink my anger, and his voice is a low, dark rumble of threat. "You don't _ever_ keep information from me, Dick. I can't do my job if I don't have all the facts, and you just made it clear that I can't trust you to give them to me." He straightens up, and then turns his back on me and goes back to his computer. "You're benched," he snaps. "Take a shower and go upstairs; you have school in the morning."

I stare at his back, my mouth partially open and my muscles frozen stiff in shock. "I— Bruce, you _can't_ just shut me down when you don't like what I have to say."

He whirls back around, takes two steps and comes right up against me. This time I _do_ step back, before I can stop myself. "This doesn't have anything to do with your _opinions_ , Dick. You held back information from me, _important_ information. If I can't trust you to tell me what you know, I can't trust you to be my partner in the field. You're benched until I say otherwise."

Alright, that hurts. I take in a shaky breath, then move another step back. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I know I— I messed up, but I won't do it again. You can trust me, I swear."

Bruce's expression doesn't change, doesn't even twitch. "Take a shower, and go upstairs," he repeats. "I'm going to set up something to catch the two of them in action, to see whether or not Jason is working with Selina. You'll tell me _anything_ you learn about him in the meantime, and _if_ I'm ready to trust you again you can help me corner them. Is that clear?"

I swallow away that swirl of fear in my gut at the idea of Bruce not _trusting_ me, and nod, lowering my head. "Yes, sir."

Bruce watches me for another moment, and then finally gives me a small nod. "Shower," he orders. "Get whatever schoolwork done you need to and then get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, Dick."

I can't quite meet his eyes, so I just nod again and repeat, "Yes, sir."

Bruce turns away from me, and I know it's a dismissal. I recognize it. I let myself take one more deep breath, pushing down the pain that always comes from Bruce's disappointment, and then turn to head towards the showers. This isn't the first time Bruce has benched me, or I've backed out for a few days. I'll survive; I'll deal.

I really hope Jason isn't part of all of this.

* * *

I run at Selina's heels, trying to keep pace in what almost feels like a game. She's faster, longer legs, and more practiced at this strange mix of running, leaping, and flying, but I'm doing pretty well. This time the bag of our stolen goods is on her hip; smaller this time, just jewelry from some place downtown. She keeps flashing me smiles, looking back at particularly long jumps or difficult climbs to check on me. I've only fallen once so far, and I managed to catch myself with a roll and just keep going. She's really not that far ahead of me, and we're practically home already.

She slows down to let me catch up to her right before the last climb, and I grin and dart ahead of her. At least this part is familiar; I've done this climb at least a dozen times now and it comes almost automatically. I do it faster this time though, thinking of Selina at my back and seeing how fast I can push myself.

I feel _good_. Being Stray is a thrill that I can't really explain, and Selina's so constantly proud that it just makes me feel amazing every time I slip into this costume. This is the best my life has ever been, I can say that with total confidence. Apart from my mom, I don't think I've ever cared for someone as much as I care for Selina, and I don't think I've ever had it returned like this either. This is all so new, and I love every bit of it.

I get to the top, twisting my head over my shoulder as I leap the balcony rail to look down and see how far she still has to go. She's only maybe a dozen feet behind me, and I can't help my grin as I turn and head towards the balcony door to get back into the house.

I nearly run face first into a large, black shadow, and I jerk back a step and snap my head up. My breath catches in my throat, eyes widening because that's _Batman_ standing between me and the door. A really _angry_ looking Batman, considering the set of his mouth, though I don't know if there's any other kind of Batman. I've never actually seen him before this moment, not in person.

It takes me a second to realize that Robin is partially behind him, leaning against the floor to ceiling glass windows separating Selina's home from the balcony. Batman is a statue, mostly hidden in that cape, but Robin's arms are crossed, and his expression is easy to read as disappointment. I manage to make myself swallow, but I can't get myself to move. There's some _stupid_ part of my head that's screaming not to move, because that would draw Batman's attention. Like I don't already have it.

I hear Selina get over the balcony behind me, her feet hitting the ground with soft thuds, and I get caught between being frozen and turning to warn her. What actually comes out is some kind of aborted twitch of movement that really only twists my shoulders about an inch.

Then Selina's hand is on my back, right between my shoulder blades and with enough pressure for me to feel it through the layer of armor covering me beneath the suit. "Batman, darling. You could give a woman some warning when you plan to stop by; give me a chance to get into something more comfortable."

Batman's head tilts up about an inch, facing Selina instead of pinning me to the spot, and I can feel my caught breath rush out of my lungs. "What have you done?" he demands, and _jesus_ that growl is even scarier in person.

Selina doesn't seem at all affected, but if she makes any kind of expression I don't know what it is. I can't look up at her, not right now. "Batman, this is Stray." I flinch a little bit when she grips my hood and tugs it back, really exposing me to that _stare_. Robin shifts a bit behind him, and I can see his jaw clench for a second. "Stray, this is Batman, and that's Robin."

"I know," I manage. Selina's hand presses against my back again, and I recognize it as trying to give comfort. Doesn't mean it works.

Batman's jaw does that same thing that Robin's did, almost exactly the same movement actually, and then he spits, "You brought a _kid_ into this business?"

I blink, glance at Robin — no way he's any more than a couple years older than me — and my mouth opens before the fear can get to me. " _Robin's_ a kid," I point out. It doesn't even take a second to do the math, and as Batman looks down at me I continue with, "He was _way_ younger than I am when he started."

Robin snorts, mouth curling into a small grin, but then is instantly blank faced when Batman turns his head to glare at him. But when Batman looks back at Selina and me Robin lets that grin show again a little bit, and dips his head towards me. I can feel my shoulders relaxing, and suddenly with Selina at my back and Robin at least partially agreeing with me, Batman doesn't seem quite so scary anymore. I mean, what's he really going to do to me? By his standards I'm a kid, and I just don't see Batman actually trying to hurt a kid. Selina would raise hell before she let him take me away.

Selina's hand slides up my back to squeeze my shoulder. "How about you and Robin go inside, sweetie?"

I automatically start to protest, but before I can say anything Robin straightens up off the windows and brightly says, "Sounds good to me!" Batman looks a little angrier at Robin's acceptance, and Selina gives my shoulder a gentle push to guide me around him.

I keep cautious as I head around him, keeping an eye on him as long as I can, and then finally focusing on Robin. He's standing by the balcony door, and he pushes it open so I can slip past him with that same small grin. He's right behind me, and I turn around as the door shuts again. Robin takes a glance outside, and then heads for Selina's couch like he's completely familiar with this place. Grudgingly, I follow him.

"Trust me," he starts, as he sprawls out on one side of the couch and props his feet up on the coffee table, "you don't want to get caught in the same room as those two when they get into a fight."

I curl myself into the other corner of the couch, taking a glance over the top of it and out towards Selina and Bruce. The body language doesn't look friendly, but the glass is muffling whatever they're saying more than enough that I can't hear it. Considering Selina's expression, I think that's a good thing. I resist wrapping my arms around my chest, and pull myself back down so I'm not watching the two of them anymore. If I could intervene, if I could make sure Selina doesn't get hurt… She's _not_ a kid, and I don't know what kind of weird thing they have but I don't know if that will protect her.

"Hey."

I look over at Robin, who looks serious again. "What?" I ask, not able to help that my tone is a little hostile.

Robin gives a small smile, and he looks utterly relaxed, but I don't think that's actually true. "She'll be fine," he promises. "She usually wins their fights, and even if she doesn't she'll just be upset for a couple of days before she evens out. It'll be alright, Stray." I twitch a bit at hearing my new name out of a mouth that isn't Selina's, but only offer a shrug in response to his words. There's a second of silence, and then he speaks again. "You really care for her, don't you?" His voice is soft, and it's enough to get me to look back at him.

I chew over my words for a bit, and then offer, "She took me in."

I think he's studying me, but it's hard to tell with that mask in the way. "Is that why you're doing this?" I stare at him in confusion, and he turns himself a little more towards me. "If you're working with her because you think you owe her something—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap, interrupting him. "I don't let anyone _make_ me do anything. I _like_ being Stray, and I _like_ working with her. I might be younger than you, _Robin_ , but that doesn't make me naive or an idiot and if you think I'm either of those things you might as well just fuck off right now."

He looks surprised for a second, then his expression hardens into something determined. "That wasn't what I meant, but you have to know that what you're doing is illegal, Jason." Yeah, of course he knows my name. "It's not going to turn out well for you."

I snort. "What _you're_ doing is illegal too, genius. Gotham police might turn a blind eye — like they _always_ do — but running around playing superhero is against the law too."

"It's _not_ the same," his voice has darkened a little bit, but then he shakes his head. "This is dangerous. You're going to get hurt."

I uncurl a bit, bracing one hand on the arm of the couch and one foot on the ground as I face him. "Oh yeah, because I'm sure breaking into a museum and stealing an artifact, without anyone even knowing I'm there, is _way_ more dangerous than going face to face with psychopaths and dodging bullets every night." Robin gives another of those surprised expressions, and I let my mouth curl into a grin that's probably not much more than just a baring of my teeth. "You explain to me why I can't do this at fourteen, when you were what, eight? It's _my_ choice, and I'm old enough to make it. What's your excuse, Robin?"

He stares at me for a second, and then blows out a breath through a small grin and inclines his head. "Touché," he murmurs. "Alright, you win that point. Still, stopping crime is different than becoming a criminal. You know the kind of damage this could do to you when you get caught? You're still a minor, but that's the kind of stuff that goes on your record. Forever."

I lean back into the couch, and stretch out one leg towards him. "Never gonna happen," I counter, as I nudge his hip with my toe. Just to see if he'll react. He tilts his head down towards my foot, then shoots me a look that looks like he's wondering what I'm doing, but doesn't actually respond to it.

"What makes you think that?" he asks, as I poke his hip again. He might not even be able to feel it through that armored suit; hard to say without knowing the kinds of layers under there.

I grin at him. "Is there anything on Selina's record?"

His mouth parts like he's going to answer, and then he stops and shakes his head again. "Alright, another fair point." He shoots me a grin. "Okay, you _weren't_ supposed to shoot down all my arguments like that." Another poke, and he finally swats my foot away from him. He's fast. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing how many times you'd let me get away with it," I answer honestly, as I draw my leg about halfway back. "You practice those little speeches, Robin?"

He laughs, and I find myself grinning back in the face of his amusement. "Only a little," he admits. Then he sobers, and his legs curl up to pull off the table and then drop down to the floor. "It's going to hurt sometimes. You know that, right?"

He looks and sounds sincere, and I think about it for a second and then shrug. "If it can hurt more than what I've already been through, I'll be impressed." Robin's expression flickers through this little parade of different emotions, and I roll my eyes behind my mask and make a disgusted noise before he can say anything. "Jesus, don't read too much into that, Robin. I can _see_ you doing it, so just stop. I don't need pity, or sympathy, or whatever fucking 'anger on behalf of me' thing you started there. Knock it off."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, with a flicker of a smile, and then lowers them again. "What I meant is that when they're done," he nods up over the back of the couch, "we'll be enemies. The next time we run into each other it'll be a fight, and I'm not going to hold back."

I snort, relaxing a little more into the couch. "So, you're saying I shouldn't be Stray, because I'll have to fight you. You having fun with that ego of yours?"

Robin sighs. "You're being very unhelpful, you know that?"

"No shit," I say, stretching my legs out and over onto the coffee table. "You're trying to get me to do something I don't want to do, so damn right I'm being _unhelpful_. I can be perfectly behaved if I _want_ to be."

Robin's closer leg stretches out, shoving into my thigh — harder than I nudged him — as he gives a small grin and a laugh. "Yeah, sure. I'll believe _that_ when I see it."

I echo his grin, and then I disable my claws so I can swat at his foot without actually hurting him. He pulls back, I miss, and then I look up and meet the white shields of the eyes in his mask. There's something in my chest that I can't quite name, but it's not bad. I just really want to _catch_ him. I think, considering that grin on his mouth and the slight tension to his shoulders, he's feeling the same thing.

So I pounce.

I push off the couch and jump at him, keeping my claws sheathed because this is just a game, it's just for _fun_. He rolls right out from underneath where I'm landing, bracing on the floor for just a fraction of a second as I track him, and then he's moving at me. I'm just barely landing when he grabs me by my hood and shoves me further down, smacking my face into the arm of the couch. It doesn't really hurt since there's no real _force_ behind the push, but it still startles me. He lets go of me, and I swipe backwards at him as I push back up.

Robin's laughing, and he keeps laughing as he falls backwards into a handspring and his boot kicks my wrist up into the air. _That_ hurts, and I blink and stare at him for a second as he flips back up to his feet. It looks effortless, which I _know_ isn't true. Acrobatics can be easier once you get momentum going, but getting the height to flip back out of a handspring from a dead stop can be _really_ hard. Robin makes it look like he just _did_ it, like it just sort of happened and gravity didn't have any say in it. I've never seen anyone except Selina move as gracefully as he just did.

Maybe it was a fluke.

I shake off my moment of surprise, pushing off the couch and towards him. I treat it just like a game, like the countless times that I've sparred with Selina or just played tag with her. Robin moves so _differently_ though. He's aggressive and head-on in a way that Selina definitely isn't, and when my first punch gets pushed aside and a _hard_ palm to the center of my chest knocks me back a few steps, that really clicks. Robin is _not_ Selina, and he won't fight the same way that she does.

He goes after me before I have real time to recover from the second of breathlessness, and I duck to the side and underneath his arm, spinning around his back because he might be faster and stronger but I'm smaller and that _does_ give me advantages. I graze my fingers over his side as I pass, emphasizing that I _could_ have raked my claws across him while I was turning. Or I try to. Because suddenly Robin is in my face, turning with me and sliding out of the way of my hand with ease. His hand wraps around my wrist and twists, and I find myself slamming to my knees with my shoulder twisted and forced forwards and down. He pushes me down until it meets the floor, forces me to twist my head to look up at him, and then lets me go.

I don't bother getting up, I just brace my other arm and spin one leg forward to sweep his. He moves back, but I still catch one ankle. It's not enough to make him fall over, but it's enough to unbalance him and make him stagger a bit as he half jumps back out of range. I roll to my feet, not bothering to get all the way to standing because he's got the advantage on me up there. I just launch myself at him, around the level of his stomach, to try and get in close enough to do… I don't know, something.

Whatever my half baked plans are, they don't end up mattering. Robin's hand braces on my shoulder, and then he's taking one step up the side of the couch and leaping. Somehow his arm hooks underneath mine, and as his weight falls across my back that grip is yanking me around. Before I know it I'm hitting the ground on my back, with the full force of his momentum, and the breath slams out of me. I gasp for air, arching a bit, and Robin's hand presses down right in the center of my chest and flattens me back out against the floor.

He's still got a small grin on his face, but his words are serious when he tells me, "Just breathe, Stray. Deep, steady breaths, as soon as you can. That'll help."

I bare my teeth at him for a second, before managing to gasp, "I _know_ that. Not the first time." But then I'm grinning too, and somehow managing a breathless laugh. "Again?" I ask, and Robin looks surprised for a second but then he's echoing my laugh.

"Sure, when you can breathe."

I snort, and extend the claws on my left hand just long enough to swipe at the hand holding me to the ground. "I can _breathe_ ," I counter, making sure my claws are away again before I push myself up. My chest aches a bit, but it's nothing that I can't handle. Nothing that I haven't felt while sparring with Selina, or while I was on the streets. I can take it; no problem. "What, you scared to go another round, Robin?"

"Think being breathless will make it more excusable that you lost?" he snaps back without a second's hesitation, his tone obviously teasing. "Hey, you wanna go before you're ready, who am I to stop you?" His stance widens, right foot shifting out and back as his hands raise a few inches. "Come get me, Stray."

I'm pretty much helpless to refuse the demand, though I could probably go at it a lot smarter than I do. Robin getting me arched over the arm of the couch in the next three seconds cements that in my head. That's alright, he backs off when I bring my knee up between his legs; still doesn't hit, but at least I know he's got weak spots like everybody else.

The way he moves is _not_ a fluke. _Jesus_ , can Robin move. I've never really seen Batman in action, but I'd bet that he doesn't move as smoothly and gracefully as Robin does, especially considering the size difference between them. Maybe I just can't see the flaws in his combat style because I don't know enough to know better, but it feels like he never has an opening that's there long enough for me to take advantage of. I can see moments where I could strike, but the second I actually try and swing for one of them it's gone and he's punishing me for the mistake with another blow or pin. It's _fun_ , honestly. A little painful, sure, but it won't be anything but aches and bruises tomorrow; there aren't any serious injuries.

Selina was not kidding; Robin is _so_ good. Maybe she could beat him, but I definitely can't. I can tell I'm going to need — at least — months more of training, and one hell of a lot of experience, before I can dream of beating him. At the moment, I'd settle for just landing one solid hit, but that's not happening. If he's not pushing my strikes away or retaliating once he's dodged them, he's moving out of the way. Handsprings, rolls, cartwheels; I can't do those _half_ as effortlessly or graceful as he makes them look. I wish I could get him to show me pointers, honestly, but that's definitely not going to happen either.

Finally there's a snapped, "Robin!" and it's enough to bring both of us to a sharp halt.

He looks over a fraction of a second before I do, and he straightens up barely a moment after that. Batman is standing just outside the balcony door, with Selina just inside. He looks pretty angry, but Selina looks smug — even though she's not real happy looking underneath it — and that makes me think that she's won their argument. She catches my gaze for a second, and then I look back at Robin. I can't read the expression on his face.

"With me," Batman orders, " _now_."

Robin dips his head in obedience, and then turns to me and reaches out to touch my shoulder. "Remember," he says quietly, "next time it won't be a game."

I nod, and then he's slipping across the room and out the door. Batman lingers for half a second, but then turns to leave as well. Selina shuts the door behind him, and then blackens the windows before they're even off of the balcony area. Her expression falls a bit, and then she heaves out what I think is a sigh before she turns towards me. I don't completely understand her expression, but I stay quiet right up until she wraps her arm around my shoulders.

"Are you alright?" I ask, watching her.

I can feel her fingers working into my far shoulder, and I'm not sure if it's a distraction for her or just an absent motion, but I don't pay much attention to it. I'm way more caught by the considering tint to her expression, which then melts into a soft smile. "It's not easy to argue with the people you care about, kitten. Even when you know you're right." She leans down, and I close my eyes as her lips press to my forehead, just above the edges of my mask. "You're staying with me, sweetheart, no matter what he says."

I lean myself into her side, resting my head against her ribs. "I like Robin," I offer.

Selina gives a soft laugh, and squeezes me up against her side. "Tell me that again after you've really fought him, kitten. It's one thing to like someone when they're playing games, and another to like them when they're beating you. You'll see." She lets me go, stretching to arch her back. I notice, at a glance, that the bag is gone from her hip. Batman must have taken our cache from this run. "How about we flip the feet on the couch up and sleep out here tonight, Jason?"

She doesn't say it, but I know why she's offering. It's a nervous thing; when she thinks she's losing me, or she's worrying about losing me, she likes the physical contact. I will never tell _anyone_ , but I actually really like the cuddling. There's something amazingly reassuring about having her arms around me and falling asleep next to her, it's just comforting in all the right ways.

I nod in acceptance, and then murmur, "How does Robin _move_ like that? It's so cool."

Another laugh, and then she's tugging me in the direction of my room. "You haven't seen _anything_ yet, kitten."


	6. Rules of the Game

Welcome back! so, just to let you guys know, I've been spazzing prompts and little story bits out pretty regularly, but I got caught in a couple of extra things (not having to do with prompts) so you'll be seeing some of my stockpiled stories come out in the next week or so in between Stray!verse updates. Starting with an Officer Grayson/Father Todd thing that I wrote a while back but then never really did anything with. XD In the meantime, enjoy!

 **Warnings** for: underage drinking, and mentions of casual sex.

* * *

"Do I _have_ to be here?" I refuse to admit that the words come out as a whine, but the look Selina gives me says she's not at all fooled even if I'd like her to be.

She's guiding me up the steps to the fanciest place I have _ever_ seen; Wayne manor. Apparently there's some 'gala' or something going on, and Selina has a constant standing invite to events like this. Therefore, so do I. I haven't even stepped inside the place and I hate it already. I hate the nameless, faceless driver that brought us here, I hate the dress Selina is wearing — black, with a deep V up both the front and the back — and I hate the stuffy clothes I'm in too. Not a suit, because the second I tried one on I knew I couldn't spend more than ten minutes in one without tearing it off, but she still forced me into the pants and the button-up shirt that went with them. At least they're black, not the blindingly bright white that was the second option.

Black won't show it if I fuck up and spill something on myself, which I'm pretty sure I'm going to at some point. I have no _idea_ what I'm supposed to be doing at this place, or with these _people_. I'm _not_ one of them.

"Yes, Jason," Selina answers me, "you have to be here. The world knows you exist now, there would be questions if I didn't bring you here and introduce you to them." Her hand touches the back of my neck, and then lightly grasps it for a second. "It won't be that bad, sweetheart. Just a few hours and we can go home again, away from all the vultures."

I snort, but keep it quiet — we're nearly at the door — when I hiss, "You like it here."

"I like some of the company," she corrects, her voice equally quiet. "I promise, we'll only stay as long as we need to, for appearances sake. I know you don't want to be here, kitten, trust me." I resist making a face, and she smiles down at me. "Best behavior, alright?"

"I'll try." It's a concession from me, and she knows that. We talked about this a couple weeks ago; the Wayne gala and how we were both expected to be there.

Hey, at least Dick will be here. Or I hope he will, anyway. I mean, he's one of the Waynes, right? Not the name, but he's Bruce Wayne's ward, which is practically like his son. He should be here.

Maybe he'll actually make this whole thing bearable. He's been nice enough so far, and fun in a _shallow_ kind of way. I swear he's got a decent mind behind all of that billionaire swagger and carefree attitude, but you'd never know it. He's two grades above me, and _I'm_ the one helping him with his homework now. It's careless stuff too, not just common mistakes or tricky parts. It's mostly small accidents that honestly look like he rushes through everything and never double checks his work afterwards. If he just slowed down, I think he'd do way better.

I really don't mind it. He's pretty much the only friend I have at that school, and I found out why that is after a few days. Dick's got friends, but not as many as he should considering how ridiculously powerful and rich the Wayne family is, and it turns out that's because he got pretty much the same reception as I did to start with. His parents were famous acrobats that died in an accident at a Gotham show, and the rich Gotham brats of this school weren't real interested in welcoming some circus kid into their ranks. It probably didn't help that Dick is noticeably _not_ white; his skin's got an olive tint to it instead that says his heritage isn't as garden variety European mix as pretty much all of the rest of the kids in our school. Not enough to make him really stand out, I've seen plenty of people with that same skin tone over the years, but enough to make him different when you _look_ for it.

They warmed up to him though, and he keeps telling me that if I mellow out, they'll do the same to me. Like I care. I don't need a bunch of asshole rich kid friends who only actually like me because my mom happens to be richer than theirs.

Selina smiles, and then we're at the door and it's being opened for us. She guides me in with that hand on my upper back, _no_ give in the way she steers me inside, and I resist rolling my eyes. It's not like I could balk at the door or something. I'm committed, even though I really don't like that fact. As much as I'd like to turn right around and leave, I'm not going to. I made a promise to Selina that I would be here.

The door closes again behind us, and Selina pulls me further into the manor, following the sound of music and laughter. I almost cringe, but manage to rein it in. Instead I pull back my shoulders, raise my chin, and try and look like _anything_ except unnerved and out of place. It doesn't help with the feelings, but maybe I look a little bit more confident.

Maybe.

The entry hall is large and marble floored, but a double door to the left is open and spilling out rich, warm light and those sounds Selina is following. I almost stall, but Selina's hand keeps pushing and I really don't have any choice but to step in right at her side. It's a big hall — I think I might actually call it a _ballroom_ , crazily enough — with the same marble floor over half of it, and soft carpeted floor on this closer half. Huge chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling, the source of most of the light, though there are also lamps scattered all over the room. The music doesn't have one definable source, but it's classical and fairly soft. There are clusters of people all over the hall, talking and laughing, most with drinks in their hands. There are a couple of people slow dancing towards one end of the hall, on the mostly empty space of the marble floor over there, but most people seem to just be talking.

I swallow, and without missing a beat Selina snags a glass from a passing waiter's tray as we move. We don't even get twenty feet in before she's pausing, and there's a voice from one of the farther groups in the room calling out. Not a shout, but close.

"Selina!" A man breaks free from that group, and I might be entirely clueless about most of Selina's high society life but even I'm not blind enough to miss the fact that it's _Bruce Wayne_.

Selina is smiling, and I do a small double take because the look on her face is almost _predatory_. Oh _ew_ , gross. I didn't need to know anything about what she usually comes to these events for, but now I _really_ don't. Crime Alley gave me a fantastic schooling on what kind of expressions people make when they really want to fuck someone else, and _that_ is one of them right there.

Okay, should have expected something like that, but still. _Ew_. I didn't need to think about Selina having sex with anybody at all, especially not my only friend's dad. So much _no_.

Bruce comes right up to us, and I almost wince as he leans in and kisses Selina's cheek. He's tall, handsome enough, ice blue eyes that are light and cheerful, and a smile that looks like it could blind a fucking _crew_ of paparazzi. It's that bright; that _perfect_.

Honestly it disgusts me pretty much right off the bat, but I do my best to keep all of that off of my face. What or who Selina does is totally her business, and no matter how instantly shallow this guy seems I can see why she might be interested. I guess he is handsome, and if she's been there before and come back he's gotta be at least halfway decent; Selina doesn't really strike me as the type to let herself get caught in anything. If Bruce Wayne is good enough, and comes without any kind of attached strings, why not have fun?

Well, there's her whole obsession with _Batman_ , to start with.

"Selina, _darling_ , it's wonderful to see you." Oh my _god_ his voice is so sickeningly sweet, and I have to stop myself from clenching my jaw when his hand touches her waist and then _stays_ there. "And this must be that new boy I've heard about. Go on then, Selina, introduce us."

I must _not_ glare at this billionaire _moron_.

Selina offers another smile, this one slower and maybe a bit wicked. "Bruce, this is Jason, my son. Jason, this is Bruce Wayne."

That hand stays on Selina's waist, but his left one extends towards me. "It's a pleasure, Jason." Grudgingly, I force myself to reach forward and shake his hand. His grip is fairly strong at least; decent handshake. "Going to have some fun tonight?"

I open my mouth but then Selina is cutting in with a sharp, "No. Jason will not be drinking anything alcoholic; he's too young even for our circles."

Bruce doesn't seem even _slightly_ fazed. "Of course, Selina. I'll let my staff know, no worries." He leans in, kisses her cheek again, and then gives another of those blindingly bright smiles as he pulls away from her. "Enjoy the party, darling. I'm sure many of the others are just _dying_ to meet your new son, but I'll come back through when I can."

He moves away with all the confidence in the world, but it's not exactly with purpose. He stops and talks to groups, saying a few words or sentences and sharing a laugh with each before moving on. It's… It's weird to watch, honestly. Is this really what high society parties are? Just… talking? Oh my god I'm going to just _die_ of boredom in here, I can see it coming already.

Selina takes a sip of whatever kind of drink she has — champagne? Wine? — and then gives me a smile. "Come on, sweetheart. They'll all be expecting to be introduced to you; it will go fastest if we approach them instead of waiting, and just make a quick circuit."

I let her push me forward, but not before I ask, "What's with you and _Bruce?_ "

She smiles but doesn't answer, and before I can press any further we're in one of the groups and she's partially spinning me to face all of them. Her free hand clasps down on my shoulder — comfort, or is she preventing me from escaping? — and she stands right at my back as conversation lights up around me. I try _so_ hard to follow it, but it all feels so trivial, and every three words there's this tinkling laughter among all of them and I just _can't_.

I shake hands when Selina prompts me to, force out greetings and smiles when I think I need to, and let one woman lean down and kiss my cheek, even though she smells overpoweringly of perfume and I just want to back away from her. I can feel my heart pounding, feel my hands threatening to shake because I don't understand anything that's going on around me. That's dangerous, that's a surefire way to get myself murdered, and that's making me paranoid and hypervigilant. I don't really think that these people are dangerous, but I don't know how to predict them, I can't understand the threads of their conversations, and that means they _could_ be.

I almost sag in relief when Selina guides me away from this group, but then we're caught up in another one and the whole thing starts over again. Selina's thumb is working into the muscle near my spine, and slowly I start actually understanding what they're talking about. Not all of it, and it _is_ totally trivial for the most part, but it's still hard for me to follow how they jump from one topic to another. And they're all _so_ interested in me. I don't like being the focus of this much attention, before this party the only time that this many people paid attention to me at the same time it was _bad_. Even at Gotham Academy, but definitely while I was still on the streets.

Experience says I should be ready to _run_ , but Selina's grip is firm and steady, even with her thumb slowly working itself up the back of my neck. It's hard to swallow away that urge to run, but I force myself to. Not only would I embarrass the hell out of both Selina and myself if I tried to run, but I'm not going anywhere with her grip holding me here. It would be one pretty short aborted flail if I tried. Or maybe she'd let me go, for the sake of appearances. I guess her dragging me back is a little bit less understandable than the adopted street rat freaking out and booking it.

So, does that mean that she'd _let_ me?

No, stop right there. It doesn't matter if I _could_ run away, the point is that I shouldn't. I promised I'd try to be on my best behavior, and booking it is definitely _not_ my best behavior. They're just people, and I'm in the best shape of my life _and_ have Selina right at my back. Even if one of these people did try to come after me, I could totally kick their ass. I am _so_ far from defenseless.

That realization lets me relax a bit, and slowly I start tracking the conversations of these high society idiots. The more I understand the more I manage to calm down, and by the fourth group I've slipped out of mildly panicking and hurtled right into _bored as fuck_. Oh my god these people are so _dull_. It's all gossip with names I don't recognize, and the occasional speech about some vacation, or some kind of income report or something. As far as I can tell, literally the _only_ two things these people talk about are what they do with their money, and what other people do with their money.

What a bunch of entitled, self-important, _assholes_. But they _do_ have some very expensive things on them.

Hm…

The first time I shake a man's hand, smile brightly enough to distract, and come away with his watch hidden in my hand, Selina's hand squeezes the back of my neck for a moment. She laughs a moment later though, and she doesn't _say_ anything, so I ignore whatever that touch was. Maybe it was a warning, maybe it was surprise, hell, maybe it was a 'good job' squeeze. I really don't know, and I'm not going to check. _This_ is at least a little entertaining, and it'll keep me from doing something really stupid. Like, say, trying to run and get the hell out of here. Or saying something bad.

I take a couple more things — just pieces of jewelry, nothing important — and then Bruce Wayne is back, his hand back on Selina's waist and his head leaning close to hers to whisper something. Her hand leaves my back, and I find myself mostly on my own as, suddenly, the two of them are talking and laughing with the rest of the guests. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, but it does irritate me that Selina's spending time with someone who's as much of an obvious moron as Bruce Wayne. I'm not sure that he's an _idiot_ , exactly, but he's so fucking shallow I can barely stand to hear him talk. I just want my gloves and claws, so I can make him bleed and get him away from Selina.

Which is stupid, because who Selina spends her time with isn't my business, not really. If she wants to hang out with someone like him, that's her choice.

I just devote my attention to stealing trinkets instead, testing how smoothly I can get things away from people without them noticing a thing. I was a decent pickpocket even before Selina took me in, so now, after her training, this is a walk in the park. Hm… Maybe a bad analogy to make in Gotham, from what I understand Poison Ivy tends to make the public parks pretty dangerous places. Like… I don't know, but it's easy.

Then Selina and I are alone for a moment, between groups and with Bruce lingering behind in the last one, and her hand squeezes down hard on my shoulder. "Kitten," she murmurs, "give those back. We don't steal from friends."

I look up at her, and it's probably a bit of a weird look but all I manage to actually say is, "These people aren't friends."

She pauses, and then gives a smile and a soft laugh. "We don't steal when we've been invited, sweetheart. Give them back before you get caught, and keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the night."

I just barely hold back a roll of my eyes, but give her a nod before we step into the next group. The last one, thank _god_. I'm not naive enough to think that this is going to be the end of our night here, but at least now I won't be expected to talk with anyone, right? Oh man, am I going to be expected to _remember_ all of these people's names? That's a fucking lot of names that I wasn't paying even a little bit of attention to.

Bruce is there again within the minute, staying close to Selina although no longer directly touching her, even if he aims his dazzling smiles at her more than anyone else. It's a little sickening, but whatever. It's only maybe six minutes before I'm introduced to the last of the people, and Selina slides her arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close to her side. Another few moments where I try to pay at least some kind of attention to the conversation above me, and then Selina tightens her grip a touch and aims a smile down at me.

"Why don't you go grab some snacks, Jason?"

Oh _yes_.

I duck my head in a nod, force a smile back and then one to the rest of the crowd, and slip out from underneath her arm. I make my way to the tables set up to one side of the enormous room, and the array of food and drinks spread out all over them. A few months ago I wouldn't have recognized even half of what's there, but thanks to Selina's tastes in food I can name at least most of it. I avoid anything that I don't recognize, and grab a plate to collect a bunch of stuff to munch on. I also grab a glass of what I think is just water — it doesn't smell or taste like anything else — and then scan the room to try and find somewhere to sit on my own.

Most of the clusters of chairs are at least partially occupied by this point, but there is one near a corner of the marbled dance area that doesn't have anyone in it. It's only three chairs circled around one very small table; that's probably why. The groups of people here seem to be at least four, though most are seven or eight people. I didn't know Gotham even _had_ this many insanely rich people in it. Or is it the insanely rich, but then also high political figures and people like that? That would make more sense of the numbers; I guess I should have paid some attention to the people I've been introduced to.

I get to that little group, and set my stuff down on the table before sitting down in one of the chairs. I _want_ to draw my legs up and curl into it, but I force myself not to. _Best behavior_.

I take my time eating, watching the groups and their interactions. I also take the time to pick out exactly who I need to return the stuff I've taken to, and let myself sigh at the thought. That's going to be a bit of a pain, but I guess it could be fun. I took it from them without them noticing, I bet I can get them back in without them noticing either. It could be like a game; something else to keep me from being bored to tears in this place that I _clearly_ don't belong in. It's not exactly something that I can just _do_ , and it's not like there are any rules, but I could still just think of it that way.

Sure, why not?

The only part that's going to suck is that I'll have to approach the groups again, and that means I'll need a _reason_ to do it. That means I have to socialize. Oh, awesome. I get to lie my _ass_ off and fake a bunch of smiles at these assholes, and try to do well enough that none of them suspect anything.

I already know what Selina would say. She'd tell me that it's good practice, which is true but not _helpful_. I know that socializing with these people is a skill that I need to have, but that doesn't mean that I actually _want_ to learn it, or that I'm going to enjoy learning it. This is really going to suck, and this night was already pretty terrible but this is just taking the cake. It was one thing when I didn't have to really _talk_ to anyone, but having to actually initiate conversation with people like this is so far out of my comfort zone it's ridiculous.

I finish my food, bite back another sigh, and then pick up my water and get to my feet.

Well, no time like the present.

* * *

I look up at the Cave monitors as I peel off my gloves, taking a look at the security feed that's up of the party upstairs. In some ways, I'm really glad that I got picked to be the absent one tonight. Mostly absent, anyway. My patrol's finished now, which means that I can change into a suit and head up to join in and make my appearances. A sixteen year old being out for half the night is more easily explainable than a host missing half of his own party, which meant that I got stuck with the 'loop around Gotham and make sure everything's alright' duty.

It wasn't so bad, really. It's been a pretty quiet night, and once I've rinsed off I should be good to join in on the 'fun.' That won't be that bad either, even if it's not really my idea of a good time. The people up there know me, and I know all the right words to say to get them interested and chatting with me without actually having to pay much attention to them. Getting people to launch into speeches is one of my better talents.

My suit is easy enough to get out of, since I have the practice, and I study the cameras as I do it. Pretty classic night, it looks like. Good turnout, lots of conversation, some food that I will _definitely_ be having some of. Bruce is up there of course, and the woman next to him is definitely Selina. But that means…

I scan the rest of the party, and my eyes catch on a smaller figure in well-fitted black clothing, standing near one of the smaller groups of people. Jason. I study his expression as I get out of the last of my suit, watching him smile and shift among the guests. He looks alright at a first glance, but his body language and that edge to his smile says he's supremely uncomfortable.

I'd be uncomfortable too if no one around me was making any effort to include me in their conversations.

Right before I turn away, I see Jason turn away from his group, and the slide and dip of his hand as he drops something in a man's pocket. I peer a little closer, but he's already moving away, and the guy clearly didn't realize anything. I wonder what that was.

Jason isn't the type to hurt someone, as far as I've been able to tell, so it can't be some kind of weird thing that he's planned with Selina. Selina would never plan something like that at one of our parties anyway, she knows better. So what did he put in that man's pocket? Interesting question, maybe I can see once I get up there, or ask Bruce later. If Jason is doing something he shouldn't be, it's guaranteed that Bruce has noticed. I'd be surprised if _anything_ Jason does during this party slips underneath his radar. Bruce has been pretty nonverbally firm about not approving of Jason or anything that he does.

I agree that Jason is young, but it is his choice in the end. He was right, when I tried to convince him not to be Stray and he just shot down my arguments one after the other. He _is_ old enough to make up his own mind, and I'd even argue that he's more prepared to make his own choices than most of the other people his age. From what I know, you don't get to keep any kind of childish behavior when you grow up in Crime Alley. Not for long anyway. Jason is pretty seriously mature for fourteen years old, and that's only made even more clear when you see him around people his own age. I think I understand why Jason isn't really making friends in Gotham Academy, and I don't blame him for it.

If I was so totally removed from the experiences of all of my peers, I'd probably be pretty shy to make any real friends either. In a way, I was. I wasn't almost antisocial like he is, but I definitely wasn't real friendly to the people in my school at first. They weren't real nice to me either, so I stand by that decision, personally.

Showering only takes a couple of minutes, and only that much because I have to make sure that I smell like something other than sweat and Gotham's night air. Neither of those are good scents, and they tend to cling a bit unless you really cover them up or scrub them out of your skin. I've gotten good at doing both of those things.

Alfred already has my clothes laid out across from the Cave's showers, and I hastily towel off and then tug into the clothes. It's a pretty classic suit, minus the jacket because I don't like them and Bruce agreed with me — for once — and said that going without the jacket makes me look younger and less mature. That's really only a good thing in _there_ , but it's a role I'm used to playing. I just minimize my brain to the back of my head and let myself enjoy without thinking. Or, I try to anyway. I have to keep my head occupied with _something_ most of the time, and the guests up there sure aren't going to do it.

Usually I play games to see how many times I can catch someone lying by their expression or body language, or pick out connections between guests that they don't want anyone to know just yet. Even that can get boring, but Alfred is always there with a soft smile and an offered drink whenever I start to feel it wear on me, which I appreciate like nothing else. Especially since Bruce is never any help, and if it wears on me then it _grinds_ at him. He's always in the worst moods after a party like this.

Unless he ends up in a room with Selina. Then he's usually more mellow for a couple of hours, at least until the self disgust kicks in and starts eating him alive. Then he's back to grumpy.

I head upstairs and then through the manor on automatic, messing with my hair as I go until it's something like neat. It only ever sort of behaves, but I've been told it looks alright pretty much no matter what, so I try not to think about it too much. Alfred will probably mess with it a bit once I'm in there, but I'd rather let him do whatever he's going to do than waste time worrying about it. On my list of things to worry about, my _hair_ is pretty low.

It takes me a little bit longer to circle around so it looks like I came through the front door instead of the back of the manor, and then I pause for a second outside the open doors to the ballroom. I take in a deep breath, drag a smile onto my face, and slip into the room.

Bruce notices me about half a second before the rest of the room, and I get a few raised drinks and a _lot_ of smiles aimed my way as I head in. I make myself part of the nearest group, exchanging welcomes and offering a couple of vague excuses about why I'm late that no one even starts to question. Honestly, I probably could have said nothing at all and no one would have asked except in jest. I should try that someday, just to see if it would actually work.

I make my way around the room, snagging a plate of snacks on the way and circling around as I munch on them. Bruce and Selina stay mostly out of my way, and Jason seems to still be involved in whatever kind of game he's playing, because he's deliberately getting close to certain people and then dropping things inside their pockets or purses. Selina keeps glancing his way, so she obviously knows about whatever he's doing, which of course means that Bruce knows too even if his glances aren't nearly as obvious. Selina can get away with it; Jason's her new son and it would make sense that she'd want to keep an eye on him.

Eventually I've reintegrated myself with the rest of the guests, and I swing back around to the food tables to grab some more, and a drink. It almost startles me when Jason appears at my side; he's pretty much _silent_ in a way I'm not used to anyone but Bruce and Selina being. He looks a little bit less uncomfortable than he did earlier, but he still seems very conscious that he's out of place here. His expression is somewhere between that discomfort and serious boredom, and I stifle a small laugh before I turn towards him.

"Those are particularly good," I tell him, pointing at one of the dishes in front of us.

Jason snorts. "Yeah, I know." Right, I probably missed a lot of what he's done in here while I've been on patrol. "You know, I think it's _usually_ bad manners to be late to your own party."

I let myself give a small grin, turning to face him. "Technically it's Bruce's party, I just happen to live here." He rolls his eyes, and I shrug and make my grin just a little bigger. "Had some things to do." I finish it off with a wink, and he stares at me for a second and then cracks a small smile. This one actually looks real.

"I don't really want to know, do I?"

His smile gets a touch wider as I laugh. "Depends. How much detail are you looking for, Jason?" A slightly wicked edge to my grin, and then I roll one shoulder and continue, "I mean, the _things_ I could tell you about this—"

"No!" he interrupts, and he's smiling and laughing, albeit pretty quietly. "Oh my god, no. I don't want to hear about it."

I grab another snack for my plate as he shakes his head. I can see the relief in his gaze, and the easing of his body language as he relaxes. "Having fun?" I ask, knowing full well he's not.

Sure enough his smile flickers, and then he forces it back through and mimics my shrug. "Yeah, sure. Good food, lots of people, what's not to like?" For a second he looks almost miserable — not obviously, but I can see it — and then he glances back behind us. I follow his gaze to Bruce and Selina, and I catch the edge of anger in his eyes before he looks away again. Oh, so _not_ a fan of Bruce's public self then. _Really_ not a fan of him being near Selina either.

I finish filling my plate, eye the drinks at the other side of the table, and then make a decision. "Hey," I aim Jason's direction, "do you want to go play a game or something?" He visibly perks up, paying _real_ attention to me, and I give him a carefree grin. "I mean, we have events and things, but I've got this stockpile of old games and pretty much no one's ever here to play them with me. Interested?"

There's that relief again, and he takes another glance at Selina and Bruce before nodding. "Sounds good," he says quietly, with a real smile.

"Good!" I get close enough to nudge his shoulder with mine. "Grab some food if you want any, I'm just going to snag a drink. You want anything?"

"Just water," is his answer, and I mentally sigh in relief even as I grin and make my way towards that part of the table.

I really don't _want_ to get Jason anything alcoholic — he's just not old enough — but if he'd asked I would have had to. That's what this version of me would do, and appearances are a little more important than stopping Jason from underage drinking. Which is the same reason that I grab myself a glass of champagne instead of the water I really want; I can drink a bunch of water later, after everyone's gone. I head back to Jason's side, he gives me a small nod that I'm almost positive means that he's ready — his plate's maybe half full — and then lead the way out of the ballroom.

I can almost _feel_ Bruce's gaze on my back, but I don't look back. If I don't _see_ him looking, I don't have to obey whatever nonverbal order he gives me. Besides, he's messing around with Selina again, so me playing games with Jason is really not his damn business. I'm doing him a favor anyway. I'm getting Jason out of his hair so he can pay his messed up flirting game with Selina, and I'm keeping Jason out of trouble. You mix those levels of boredom, and someone who was a thief, and you're going to get some kind of disaster by the end of the night. I'm just heading that off at the pass.

I lead Jason off into the manor, into the smaller library like area that we used to actually hang out in, before I apparently got too old or Bruce got too 'busy.' Most of the time I don't mind, but it would be nice if Bruce would make the effort to just spend some time with me for once. Not as Robin and Batman, or the Wayne family, but just as himself. I miss the days that we would just watch movies, or play games, or just exist in the same room without the barrier of _work_ between us.

I set us up on the floor, in front of the couch and close to the lit fire. Alfred keeps that going; this room is usually where Bruce and I escape to if we need a minute away from the gala, so he makes sure it's comfortable when we do. God, what would we do without Alfred?

Jason settles down pretty easily, leaning towards the fire and closing his eyes for just a moment in obvious enjoyment. I allow myself a smile that I turn to a grin before he opens his eyes again. "They're right down there," I tell him, with a sweep of my hand towards the bookshelves to the right of the fire and the stacks of games on the bottom two shelves. "Take your pick."

He takes a brief look, and then a slight wariness slips into his gaze, and his head lowers a little bit. "I probably don't know any of the rules."

I _real_ quickly shove aside the thoughts that statement brings to the front of my mind — like wondering what he _did_ do as a kid, if he didn't play any of those games — and just shrug and keep my grin. "So I'll teach you. No big deal. Go pick a cool sounding title then."

Jason looks just a little startled, but then he smiles and the next second he's rolling to his feet and heading over to the shelves. I watch him sink down to his knees in front of it, and I let myself just look at him for a second.

He's a good kid. Maybe he's on the wrong path, but honestly there are a lot of worse things he could be doing than being Selina's sidekick. She never goes after small targets, just big museum pieces and things like that. It's not like Jason is actually _hurting_ anyone. I know that Selina only keeps the claws for Bruce and the occasional gun-wielding security guard. She's never killed anyone, and I don't think Jason ever will either.

I can't approve of what he's doing, but it could be worse. Being a thief isn't the same as being a murderer, and Jason _is_ kind, I can tell that much just from being around him. Roughened up by his past, definitely, but he's got a good heart underneath all that attitude. Maybe I can still bring it out of him.

I just have to convince him that being Stray isn't worth it, and the first step towards that is really going after him as Robin. I don't like the idea of hurting Jason, but if it brings him off this path? I have to try.

* * *

Jason fidgets a little bit, his gaze trained past me and towards Bruce and Selina. He looks somewhere between displeased and disgusted, with a side of irritation. It's almost funny, except that I know that exact same mix of emotions and most of the time I agree with him. I just usually don't let it show when I'm outside of a mask.

"Ignore them," I murmur, reaching forward to give a small shove at his shoulder. He rocks back on his heels, but doesn't even once seem like he's off balance. He does look at me though. "So, you enjoy yourself?"

His expression softens into a small smile, and his head ducks a little bit. I think it's actually _embarrassment_. "Yeah," he admits. "I uh, I had a lot of fun tonight. Thanks."

"Anytime," I promise, and I really don't miss the flicker of surprise in his eyes before he nearly lights up with happiness. It's really kind of adorable, and sweeter than I think a lot of people would believe Jason can be. "You should come over sometime. We can play some games, run through some homework."

He rolls his eyes, but his mouth is curved in a small grin. "I can't believe you're so _terrible_ at it. How the hell am I fixing _your_ homework when I'm two grades under you?" I don't offer anything but a shrug and a crooked grin, and he snorts and shakes his head. "Yeah, alright." He meets my eyes again, and his words come out in a rush. "Or, I mean, you could come over to Selina's. It's not as nice as," his gaze sweeps around the entry hall, " _this_ , but it's still nice. And I mean, I don't think she has any games, but you could… bring them?"

He's back to looking a little embarrassed, and I head that off at the pass with a smile, and a quiet, "Sure. That sounds good." That simple happiness lights up his face again, and then Selina is slipping past me to his side.

"Ready?" She asks, sliding a hand over his shoulder. It's definitely _love_ in his expression as he looks up at her with another smile, and my willingness to actually hurt Jason slips down another few notches. Maybe it's the wrong path, but I could never argue that Selina truly cares for Jason as a son, and he loves her like a mother. It doesn't feel right to try and break that up, especially not with what little I know about Jason's past.

"Yeah," he answers, and starts to turn away before he pauses and turns back to me. "See you at school?"

I echo his smile with my own. "Definitely. See you there."

A slightly wider smile, and then he's following Selina out the door. It shuts behind them, and just like that I can _feel_ Bruce at my back. Selina and Jason were the last ones still here of all of our guests, and Alfred is cleaning things up, so we're alone again. I'm reluctant to turn around, but I do it anyway so I can face Bruce head on. This isn't going to be fun, I can tell just by his expression, but I can't avoid it either. He'd never let me.

"What do you think you're doing?" are the first words out of his mouth. I wish I could say I don't understand what he's talking about, but I do.

"Making friends," I answer, just barely keeping my voice calm and not snapping at him like I want to. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do, Bruce?"

His eyes narrow, and if I hadn't seen it for myself I'd wonder how anyone could possibly be fooled by his playboy act when he's really this _intense_. He's just that good of an actor. "I wanted you to get information from him, not actually befriend him, Dick. He's a thief." His tone _is_ snapped, and it makes my shoulders rise a bit.

"Oh, you've got to be _kidding_ me," I mumble, raising a hand to scrub over my mouth and physically _biting_ my tongue to not spit the words lingering at the tip of it. How can he _possibly_ be angry about me befriending Jason when he's doing his own weird thing with Selina? "I was keeping him out of trouble," I manage to answer, after I've pushed down my own irritation. "He's a good kid, Bruce."

"You had _other_ guests to talk to. The point of these is to _socialize_ , Dick, not to hide in another room with a criminal."

And just like that my control of my temper slips. "So you didn't sleep with Selina this time?" I don't get so much as a twitch, and that just makes it worse. "No, you don't _get_ to be hypocritical like that, Bruce. When you stop _sleeping_ with Selina, and letting her off the hook again and again, _then_ you get to judge me for making friends with a good kid who happens to be on the wrong path. I will give you what information I get out of him, but you don't get to tell me to keep my distance when you can't do the same."

I'm not going to get the last word, I _never_ do, so I leave it there and don't even try. He's an immovable statue, but that's fine; I've got practice dodging around things that aren't going to move. I slip around him, until his hand is on my shoulder and pulling me to a halt. I could duck away, I could get out of it, but I don't want to take a step like that.

"What you're doing is dangerous," Bruce says, and for once his voice is quiet, maybe even worried. "Don't get in too deep, Dick. You _have_ to stay objective or you won't be able to do what you need to when you have to."

It even sounds like he's trying to help, but all I can see in his words is the hypocrisy and the _arrogance_. "That's good advice," I manage, and then roll my shoulder to make him let go. He does. " _You_ should take it. Pretty sure sex is a lot more emotionally taxing than just being a friend; just my guess."

"Dick—" His voice is back to angry, and I turn my back on him and head for an exit. I could go back out on patrol for another couple hours, that would definitely let me take out some of this frustration, but then he'd be in my ears through the coms and I'm just not alright with that right now. So I head for my room instead, and ignore his snapped, "Dick, don't make the wrong decision just to rebel. You _know_ that being friends with him is the wrong decision. Dick, _stop!_ "

I slip through a door and shut it again behind me before he can follow. It won't stop him if he's really determined, but maybe it will buy me enough time to get to my room. He's never intruded on that sanctuary; not yet anyway.

This would be a hell of a first time though.

* * *

Selina's fairly quiet on the drive back to our home, but so am I so that's alright. I really didn't expect things to go the way they did at the 'gala,' but I'm glad that they did. I was bored out of my mind through most of it, even with the game of taking things and then giving them back to the people I took them from. That was amusing for a little while, but the fact that I actually had to go up and _talk_ to people kind of ruined it. If you can even call that boring, idle kind of conversation 'talking.' It's more like just an endless circle of praising their own wealth and what they do with it, and it got frustrating after about two minutes. It was even worse without Selina right there to be a barrier between me and them.

But then Dick actually showed up. I watched him make his own circle around the room, laughing and talking just like the rest of them, and _god_ for a minute I thought that he was really like that. I mean, he seems a little more serious at school, and a little more down to earth and less obsessed with his own money, but then he was behaving just like the rest of them. At least until I actually approached him, at the buffet table. Then he was just like I remembered him from school.

Maybe he only behaves that way when he's expected to, but it was still a little worrying. He seemed to fit in so much easier than I did, and actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

I was so relieved when he offered the idea of getting out of there and going to play games. It was way more fun than I expected it to be too. I didn't know the rules of any of the games, but true to his word Dick took his time explaining them as I read through the rulebooks, and I might not have won anything we played but it was still a lot of fun. The fire was warm, the food was good, and even when he's beating me at everything Dick is still fun to be around. He's nice. I'm honestly looking forward to school for more than just the classes; I want to spend more time around him. I like him.

Though, I wonder if I had as much fun as _Selina_.

I don't know what happened after Dick and I left, but before that she seemed like she was enjoying herself. Especially with _Bruce_. God, he's so shallow. I think it might be a miracle that Dick turned out as decently serious as he is.

It's nice to actually get home though. After all that time among people I didn't like, and even the time with Dick, it's nice to get through the front door and be back in familiar ground. I beeline my way over to the couch, drop down onto it, and then kick off my shoes to somewhere underneath the coffee table. I can check exactly where they ended up later on and put them away. Right now I really just want to stretch out and relax.

Selina sits down next to me, leaning down to unbuckle the straps of her heels and slip them off her feet. "Did you have fun, kitten?" she asks, as she leans back into the couch and slips an arm around my shoulders.

Before I can think about it my mouth curls into a smile, and I admit, "Yeah, I did." She smiles back, and I quickly correct, "With Dick. The party was _awful_."

She gives a soft laugh, and pulls me in against her side. "You will have to get used to them, sweetheart. It's part of being rich, I'm afraid."

I snort and relax into her. "You looked like you were having fun. I mean, what's up with you and Bruce?" I raise my head so I can actually meet her gaze, and then shrug. "It's just, you have your thing with Batman, and that… That looks _important_. What are you doing with Bruce?"

Her hand strokes down my arm, and then she leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. I scrunch my face a bit in protest, but she only smiles. "You're right. What I have with him is important, but it's not everything. Part of my heart may belong to Batman, kitten, but waiting for him would be a long dry spell. Bruce may be shallow, but he's fun." Her voice lowers, gains an edge I can only describe as _mischievous_ , and she murmurs, "And between you and me, he's _great_ in a bedroom."

"Oh my god!" I exclaim, pulling away from her. "Selina! Things I didn't need to know!"

She's laughing, and I cover my ears and really _try_ to banish the thought of her and Bruce _together_. That was a thing I didn't need to think about or ever have confirmed, thank you very much. Selina is my _mother_ ; knowing she's sexual and hearing about it are two very different things. I don't think I ever needed to actually hear anything about who she chooses to have sex with.

She grabs me and pulls me in again, wrapping her fingers around my wrists and pulling my hands away from my ears. "Relax, kitten. Sex is a natural part of a healthy life, and I promise that what I have with _Bruce Wayne_ is just for fun, nothing more." I make another face as she kisses my forehead again, and make a soft noise of disgust. "Whatever some idiots may tell you, casual sex is perfectly fine as long as you're safe, sweetheart. Feelings don't have to be involved if you don't want them to be, and it isn't going to make you a better or worse person for doing it."

" _Selina_ ," I whine, "I don't need to hear any of this, I _swear_."

She holds me a little tighter as she says, "Well I needed to say it. You can always ask me any questions you have, kitten." Then she lets me go, and I squirm away just enough to prove that I really didn't _want_ to hear any of it before I settle back against her side. Her arm wraps back around my shoulders within the moment. "So what are you thinking? Movie, food, sleep?"

"Sleep," I decide, with a small nod. "I have school tomorrow." I get to see Dick again, and talk, and maybe we can even plan some kind of day where he comes over here or I go to the manor, just to spend more time together. It'll be fun.

"You know, most kids don't sound _excited_ when they talk about school." Selina sounds teasing, and I roll my eyes and then duck my head. "Looking forward to something, kitten?" I shrug about half a second before she asks, "Or _someone?_ "

"What?!" I sputter. "No!" Her smile is knowing, and I squirm and shrug again. "Dick's a lot of fun to be around," I admit, grudgingly. "And I like school; I'm good at it."

She pulls me into a real hug for a second, then smiles down at me as she lets me go. "Fair enough. Alright, sweetheart, go get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

I nod, shifting off the couch and leaning down to snag my shoes from underneath the coffee table. "See you then," I agree. "Night, Selina."

"Night, kitten."


	7. Can't Touch This

Welcome back! So this has got something a lot of you were wondering about. The first fight between Jason and Dick. Hope you enjoy!

No **warnings** this time.

* * *

It feels like I'm way too lucky for my own good. Selina and I go a long time without anyone catching us at work, and I mean _anyone_. Batman and Robin slip by sometimes, but they've never caught us in the act and I've always had time to hide with Selina before they could actually track us down. I'm counting the days though; usually when things go insanely well for me that means karma is about to bite me in the ass. I know that they're not going to keep missing us forever, and Robin did promise that he was going to treat me like an enemy next time we ran into each other.

I'm probably better than I was when we played, but I'm not naive enough to think that I saw anything close to how much Robin's really capable of, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get my ass handed to me. Maybe even dragged off and arrested, not that it would stick. I'm a Kyle now, and Selina explained to me that our family is friendly with some of the older mob families. She runs jobs for them sometimes, and they keep any charges from sticking to her whenever Batman actually manages to get her in a cell, which is a damn good deal that extends to me now too. She made sure of that.

So I don't have anything to fear from that part of it. That doesn't mean that Robin taking me down isn't going to hurt, and I'm pretty sure that it really is going to _hurt_. I don't know that much about his fights, and I've never seen one up close and personal, but I know he's got skill, strength, and speed on his side. I doubt he hits as hard as Batman, but he'll probably still hit more than hard enough for me.

On one hand I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what he can really do. On the other, it's all going to be aimed at _me_ , and that's not so appealing.

It's on a museum heist that it finally happens.

The security is disabled, the guards are either watching old footage or on the opposite end of their rounds, and both of us are standing next to our goal for the night. She's just reaching to take the enormous ruby off of its pedestal when they show up. One second Selina is about to pull it off that stand, the next a black shape wings right between her fingers and the ruby and she jumps back. It hits the floor with a clatter of metal, and I spin around as she does, activating my claws without really thinking about it.

Batman is a black shadow, cape flaring as he lands heavily on the floor of the museum, and Robin is a brighter spot at his shoulder, half hidden behind the cape until it settles. Both of them have the same tense, serious expression, though Robin's doesn't compare to quite how _displeased_ the bottom half of Batman's face manages to look. Robin's cape is back behind his shoulders, mouth in a flat line and his gaze fixed on me. I think. It's hard to tell with that mask on his face.

"Step away from it," Batman demands, and Selina eases into half a crouch.

" _Make_ me," she counters, with a laugh, and then she's moving sideways and swiping that ruby off of the pedestal. Another batarang slices through the space it was, but she's long since ducked and spun away, slipping the ruby away into the pouch at her waist.

Then Batman is moving for her, like a _wall_ of armor and shadow, and I freeze up for just a second before Selina's training kicks in. She's meeting him head on, swipes of her claws and long-legged kicks forcing him back a few steps, and I sweep my gaze around the room to catch sight of Robin. Batman is hers, Robin is _mine_.

He's spinning around the far side of the pedestal, one foot braced as he turns, and I twist myself to meet him. _Speed_ , I repeat to myself, not strength. Robin's bigger, stronger, and more skilled than me. My only chance is that I've got bladed weapons, and I'm smaller which gives me an inherent advantage when it comes to dodging. Not much of one, but maybe enough. Either way, this is going to hurt.

I swipe with my right hand before Robin is actually close enough to hit, considering his momentum and thinking I might be able to at least get him to slow down enough to not get hit. He ducks instead, skidding on the treads of his boots as he braces his fingertips on the ground. I have enough time to realize how open I am before he twists, and all of that momentum slides into a kick that lands solidly in my gut. It's enough to knock me back a few staggered steps, and enough to wind me and make me wrap my left arm around my stomach as I gasp in a breath. I don't have any time to recover before he's in my face, his right hand grabbing my left arm to shove it harder against my stomach and his left swinging for my face.

I remember enough to turn with the blow, minimizing the impact, but his gauntleted hand still cracks hard enough across my jaw to snap it to the side. I gasp in another breath and then lash out at his ribs, my hand curled to claw and _hurt_. He lets go of me and spins around my side faster than I can believe, and my hand slices through open air, barely missing the edges of his cape. Another fist hits my side, and I don't have the breath to cry out but I do grunt at the impact, curling sideways. I force myself to turn, baring my teeth and slicing out with both hands, just to get him _away_. He falls back in that same handspring avoidance that he used on me when we were playing, but this time when his boot cracks into my wrist it feels like it _breaks_.

I yelp, jerking back and almost clutching at my wrist before I remember my claws. I breathe through the pain instead, and very carefully rotate my wrist as he lands on his feet, the cape settling against his back. I can still move it, and it's not _agonizing_ when I do, so I'm pretty sure it's not broken. Hurt, definitely, probably bruised all to hell, but I don't think my wrist is actually broken.

"You know," I manage, through my teeth, "I always thought you were real chatty, Robin. What's the matter?" I force a grin. " _Cat_ got your tongue?"

He actually looks a little startled for a second, but then his mouth curls in a small grin. It's not really friendly, but it's definitely a grin. "You'd have to touch me first, Stray." He coils, and I see it _just_ in time to reach down and grab the whip on my right hip.

I remember everything Selina's taught me as I flick it, _not_ throw. All in the wrist. It snaps towards Robin, and he pushes off that slight coil and steps back. The whip cracks down right in front of him, and that grin sharpens a little bit as he darts at me. I manage to pull the whip back and swing it again in time, but he just reaches out and grabs it. It coils around his arm, and he _yanks_ on the end and pulls me forward. It occurs to me a second later I should have just let it go, but then his other hand is grabbing my hood and pulling me right up next to him. His knee slams into my stomach, and nausea hits me hard and fast as the breath rushes out of me.

Robin shoves me backwards, and I fall and hit the ground on my back. I swallow down the nausea, gritting my teeth and wrapping my arm around my stomach defensively as I look up at him. He's already dropping down on top of me when I catch sight of him. His weight comes down over my hips, and his hands grab my wrists and drag them up, over my head. He slams them down above my head, fingers digging especially hard into the wrist that he injured. I gasp in pain. I try and curl my fingers to claw his hands, but he twists my wrists and shoves my hands flat into the floor, my claws scraping harmlessly against it.

"You can't win," he murmurs, leaning his weight onto my wrists as he hovers over me. "I've got _years_ of training and experience on you, Stray. You can't beat me. You can't even _touch_ me."

"So what?" I ask. "I'm supposed to just give up? No way, Robin." I jerk against him, bringing my legs up to brace against the floor to try and buck him off, but he's just too _heavy_.

He drags my hands together above my head, one of his hands wrapping around both my wrists to keep them there. His other one raises, and it's a _stupid_ reaction but my breath catches as it reaches the apex of the windup. Because Robin has got that small curl of enjoyment to his mouth, and his hair is curling around his face in black curls, and he's just so damn _pretty_ I can't help but stare. I get a fraction of a second where I wonder what it would feel like to touch that hair, his lips, to _kiss_ him, and then that fist comes down across my jaw for the second time and my head snaps to the side.

That ends _those_ thoughts real quick.

I try and pull away, but Robin is just too heavy and too strong for me to get him off of me. So I try and think — another punch hits me, slightly lower on my jaw this time; I'm going to have some _colorful_ bruises tomorrow — through everything Selina's taught me. It's harder than I thought it would be, but then Robin is better than I expected him to be so that all kinds of fits right into the theme of things tonight.

I glare up at him, his weight shifts over my hips, and something clicks in my head. As his arm rises again I brace my legs and then shove off them. My knees hit the middle of his back as I yank them upwards, and he jolts forward a bit with a startled sound. I twist, buck, and _pull_ hard at his grip on my wrists, and I manage to slip one of them out from underneath his pin. I claw up at his face, and he's already unbalanced so his options to dodge are pretty limited. I can see him start to just lean back, but then he changes his mind and rolls off me to the side instead.

I roll the opposite direction, drawing my legs up underneath me and getting my balance back as he settles. I keep my gaze on him. I can see Selina and Batman still fighting, past Robin, but I don't dare actually look at them. She'll handle him, I just need to not get my ass handed to me and hold out for long enough that we can get away. Yeah, I'm going to lose to Robin, but I don't have to go easily or quietly. I can give him at least a little bit of a challenge.

Okay, no, but I can at least make him work to win a bit more than I have. I'm _not_ just some common street thug, Selina taught me a lot, and I know I'm a lot better than I've had the chance to show so far. I just don't know how Robin fights quite yet, that's all. Once I figure out a little more about his patterns I should stand a little more of a chance, right?

I rise partially to standing, staying somewhat in a crouch so that I can move in any direction as quickly as I need to. I keep moving backwards though. Distance is my best friend right now; with distance I can get more warning of what he's going to do before he's right in my face. Or at least I can _try_ and read some of his movements beforehand, even if it doesn't actually work. Reaction speed is not a competition I want to try and have right now; I _will_ lose. Maybe by widening the distance between us I can give myself a little more of a chance. I'm pretty sure that it's not actually going to matter, but at least it's something.

I move my jaw, trying to make sure that nothing is broken there either. I didn't _hear_ anything break, but that doesn't necessarily mean that nothing did. I've had broken bones before, they're not always as nasty as people think they are. It's possible something in my jaw could be cracked, or something in my wrist, and I just don't know it. I'll find out for sure later, but I just have to assume that I'm alright for now.

Robin gives another grin, and then he starts moving forward, matching my backwards pace. That's about the same time as I realize that there's a wall coming up at my back, and I don't really have the space to retreat any farther. It only _seems_ like a good idea to get my back up against a wall, in reality it gives me less room to maneuver and more things for him to pin or slam me against. I need open space to move. Also, I know that Robin's primary strength is acrobatics; if I give him things to catch or bounce off of — like say, a _wall_ — that gives him more to work with and puts me at more of a disadvantage. I think I'm probably too close even now.

Alright, tactics switch. No more aggression, from this point out I play purely defensive, and only use my claws to keep him away from me. I can't afford to actually go after him when he's so much better than me, my only real chance is just to stay out of his range. If he gets a hold of me again I don't think I'm going to be able to break out of it; not without at least a few more punches anyway. Maybe he'll pick something a little more damaging than my face next time.

I try and get all of that out of my mind as he closes the space between us, and I _mostly_ succeed before his pace picks up and then he's running towards me. I brace, get ready to move any direction depending on what he does, and try and read what that's going to be. I'm _not_ expecting the sudden appearance of a batarang in his hand, or how he throws it at my _head_. I jerk to the side, but I still get a sharp flash of pain at the edge of my ear as it slices past, and I wince and recoil. Then he's in my face again. I jump to the side, dodging his first grab with his right hand at my collar. His second one — left hand this time — I slice at, forcing him to pull it back before my claws hit his arm or hand.

He turns with the avoidance though, right leg coming up as he spins around, and I don't get back fast enough to avoid his heel slamming into my side with what feels like the weight of a truck behind it. It knocks me sideways far enough that I hit the wall _hard_ , my mouth parting in a gasp of pain. His hand grabs the back of my neck through my hood a second later, shoving my head against the wall, and I grit my teeth — _oh_ , bad idea; that _hurts_ — and lash out behind me. If he's close enough to grab me, he's close enough for me to claw.

I can't see him, but he does let go of my hood so I must have judged where he was good enough that I would have hit him. I spin around, pressing my elbow in tight against my side as I backpedal. Except he's not where I thought he would be, and it takes me a precious second to realize that he moved the opposite direction, and he's at my back. A precious second where a foot _slams_ into the back of my left knee and buckles it, and I yelp as my kneecap gets caught between the hard floor and the force of the kick. I still don't hear or feel anything that makes me think the bone has cracked or broken, but it _hurts_. Tears spring to my eyes from the pain, and I can't help collapsing forward to brace my right hand against the floor. My sides hurt, my stomach hurts, and just for a second I can't find the strength in me to try and get back up.

Robin's foot presses to the middle of my back and shoves me flat against the floor. My chin knocks against it, but it's the press of a knee to my low back that makes me grunt and then gasp. It grinds my stomach into the floor even through the layer of armor I've got, makes it a little hard to breathe, and then his hands are grabbing my wrists and dragging them behind my back. I try and curl my fingers to claw him, but he presses my hands into my own sides.

"Put the claws away or I'll put them away through _you_ ," he orders. His tone isn't anything but serious, and his knee grinds a little harder into my back. A little bit more weight leans onto me, and I swallow back my next noise of pain and deactivate my claws. He drags my arms a little higher up my back — not far enough to reach the limits of my flexibility, but close — but then relaxes them and presses my hands to each opposite elbow instead.

One of his hands wraps around the very middle of my arms, and his other vanishes. I don't know exactly what he's going for, but I know it's going to be bad for me so I yank against his wrists. " _No_ ," I snap, trying to lift my torso off the floor and trying to get my legs far enough underneath me to give me some kind of leverage. I don't manage either.

Then Robin is yelping and letting go of me. I feel his weight shift off of me, and as soon as I'm free I flip myself over onto my back to see what happened. Robin is moving away, his right shoulder bowed inwards, and Selina is standing over me. Her claws are out, there's blood on the ones from her left hand, and she's watching Robin with her teeth bared. I drag myself to my feet, looking around for Batman as I try to ignore the way my left leg shakes and every clench of the muscles in my stomach makes it ache like I'm being punched again.

Batman is across the room, shaking his head as he starts to rise. He looks stunned. Robin is bleeding from that shoulder he's got drawn down, the red staining the yellow of his cape. Selina grabs my left arm and then she's pulling me into running; somehow I manage it despite the fresh wave of pain every time I step down on my left leg. Robin shouts something after us, but Selina pushes me ahead of her and turns, and I glance back in time to see the glint of what look like small metal blades as they fly from Selina's hand and towards Robin. He leaps into a flip to dodge, and then I'm past the door and Selina's hand is between my shoulderblades, pushing me forward and towards our escape route.

I listen the whole time for _anything_ behind us, but somehow we get out of the museum without anyone at our backs. I don't think Selina's got the ruby anymore, but we got away.

I'm counting that as a win.

* * *

Jason shifts the ice pack on his knee, and then hisses in a breath through his teeth and winces. I can see the shiver slide through his shoulders, and the way his right arm presses a little tighter over his stomach. His breath is coming short and sharp, and it makes me have to stifle a wince as well. I knew that Jason was going to get hurt, but that doesn't mean I like seeing it.

I knew he wasn't ready to fight Robin, but the only way for him to learn more is through experience. He'll need to take some pain before he even stands a chance, if he even wants to continue after this. I wouldn't fault him if he didn't, the first time real pain happens can be pretty shocking to people. I'd let Jason back out if he wanted to; of course. It'll always be his choice to be Stray, not a necessity for living in my home. _Our_ home.

He's my _son_.

I carefully sit down on the couch next to him, trying to move him as little as possible. "Let me see," I murmur, and he snorts. I can see the way his stomach clenches at the noise, and it makes him tilt his head back and grimace.

" _Fuck_ ," he hisses. "Which part?"

Instead of answering I just turn towards him, raising my hand and very carefully pulling his arm and then his shirt up and away from the lower half of his torso. There are darkening bruises across his stomach and both sides, near the bottom of his ribcage. They look painful, and considering the tiny shudders shaking him, they are. They don't look bad enough for there to be any internal damage though; he'll just be in some decent pain while they heal. I was almost certain that would be the case; Robin might want to stop Jason from being Stray, but I also know that he doesn't really want to hurt him. He wouldn't do anything worse than bruises.

The only thing that actually looked a bit frightening when I pulled him out of that fight was the blood across the left side of his face, but it only _looked_ scary. Once I got Jason far enough away that I could pull him down and make sure he was alright, I found out that it was just from a small nick in the shell of his ear. Lots of blood, but it's already scabbed over. Shouldn't even scar.

Now the slices I put in Robin's shoulder, _those_ should leave him some marks to remember me by. At least for a few weeks. He does _not_ get to hurt Jason this badly without getting some pain in repayment.

"Alright, tell me where you're hurt," I demand.

Jason shifts, winces, and then breathes out. It's long and slow, and I can see him relaxing a little bit. "Uh, well there's those down there. Think that's the worst bit. Knee, right wrist, ear, and face." He winces again, and I can see his jaw work a bit. "Just bruises; pretty sure. Hurts like a bitch but I'm pretty sure I'll be fine." He lifts his head, and I can see him swallow and see that it hurts him, but he turns partially towards me anyway. "This… This doesn't change your mind, right? I'll get better; promise."

My first instinct is to pull him into a hug, but I strangle that down so I don't hurt him and just give a soft smile instead. I raise my hand off his stomach, tracing it up the side of his neck and back behind his ear. True to form he leans into my hand, his eyes closing for a moment. "Of course not, kitten. I never expected you to win against Robin."

His mouth curls in a small smile, and I can feel myself relaxing. However badly he's bruised, my kitten is alright. "I know," he murmurs. "Knew it would hurt, just didn't really expect him to be so _serious_. Kinda thought he'd treat it like a game, you know? That's how I thought Robin always was."

I need to have some _words_ with Bruce about how much his son is allowed to hurt mine. Any more than this and I'd have to go after Robin myself.

I stroke that path down behind his ear, small rubs of my fingers to relax and comfort him. "He's trying to get you to quit," I tell him. I don't have any proof, but I know that it's true. I've seen the way that Dick looks and behaves around my Jason, and I know that Dick likes him at least as a friend. That doesn't mean that I forgive him for the pain he's caused my son. "It's a balance. Robin doesn't want to actually hurt you, but he wants to hurt you _enough_ to make you rethink being Stray."

Jason's eyes crack back open. "Yeah? Well then he can kiss my ass. I'm not giving this up; I can handle pain." There's something in his voice that makes those last couple of words catch, and then something in his eyes that looks like discomfort. Not just pain, but almost wariness. But then his eyes are closing again before I can figure out what it's about.

"Wait," I murmur. "Jason, sweetheart, what was that?"

He looks up at me again, and yes, it's definitely wariness. It's a look I haven't seen in his eyes for awhile now, something that used to pop up whenever he was worried I wasn't going to like what he had to say. He shakes his head, ducks it a few inches, and I very carefully hook my thumb underneath his jaw and tilt it back up. He's avoiding my gaze, and really all that does is make me more determined to get whatever this is out of him. I don't ever want Jason to be worried about telling me something, no matter what it is.

"Hey," I whisper, pulling my other arm up so I can gently comb some of his hair away from his face. "You know you can tell me anything, sweetheart. What is it?"

"I—" It's a _flush_ that takes over Jason's cheeks, embarrassment, and then he speaks in a rush of words that I have to take a second to decipher. "Robin's _really pretty_." His gaze snaps up to my eyes, and then drops right back down. "I mean, there was a second where he had this look on his face, and this _smile_ , and I just really wanted to—" He cuts off, his shoulders curling in a little bit. "I'm not gay, am I? I _can't_ be gay; I look at girls, at _women_. They're pretty, and awesome, and Robin is definitely a _guy_ but he's just— I— _Selina_ , why are you _smiling?_ "

I can't help it. I laugh. Softly, and only for a moment before I lean in and kiss Jason's forehead. "It's called _bisexual_ , kitten. It means that you like both genders."

He draws back about half an inch, that same uncomfortable expression on his face. "No, I'm not— I've _never_ looked at guys before. I mean, Robin's _pretty_ , he's not— _I'm_ not—"

" _Relax_ , sweetheart." It makes him quiet down, for a second, and I take full advantage. "There's nothing wrong with it, I promise. Maybe you are bisexual, or maybe you just like Robin and you'll never be attracted to any other guy. Sexuality is a complicated thing, kitten, and whatever you feel comfortable calling yourself, that's fine." I let that sink in for a moment, and then add, " _I'm_ bisexual."

His gaze snaps up, widens as he stares. "Really?" he asks, with a tinge of disbelief.

"Really." I stroke my fingers through his hair and give him a soft smile. "I'm pretty equally attracted to men or women, it all depends on the person. I personally think life's more fun when gender doesn't matter." He looks a bit relieved, and I shift a bit closer to him and carefully slide my arm around his back. "Whatever you are, Jason, I'll support it. Don't doubt that."

He gives a small, crooked smile, and then leans into me and murmurs, "Thanks, Selina."

I press another kiss to the top of his head, and I can hear him blow out another long, slow breath. "You know what _does_ amuse me, kitten?" I ask quietly. I feel him give a small shake of his head, and then he gives a small, questioning noise. "Well, _apparently_ we Cats have a bit of a thing for Bats, don't we?"

Jason gives a burst of laughter, and then he's shaking against me as he laughs and gasps in pain in turns, his head tucked down underneath my chin. He's breathing in sudden starts and stops when he calms down, and then he answers, "Fuck, _ow_. Yeah. Guess we do."

I tighten my hold around his shoulders, smiling into his hair. "So, what are you going to do next time?"

"Next time I run into Robin?" he asks, a bit breathless and definitely still amused. I confirm it with a quiet noise, and he snorts. "Get my ass handed to me. Maybe get out on my own this time though." He shifts up, and I can feel one corner of his smile against my neck. "Kinda looking forward to it."

I kiss his forehead, smile, and answer, "Yeah, sweetheart. I always do too."

* * *

Jason's limping.

I watch him come out of his class, and oh the guilt hits me _hard_. It's not really obvious, and it would be easy to miss if you weren't paying close attention, but Jason is hurt. He's moving carefully, and his stride hitches a little bit every time his weight comes down on his left leg. Makeup is covering almost everything, but there's the edge of a bruise visible on his right wrist — where I kicked him — and his face has that 'too perfect' look that you get from using concealer to cover up bruises. I can only guess how bad the bruises on his jaw actually are underneath that, but the way he has his bag pulled protectively around his right side and part of his stomach tells me that he's definitely feeling the hits that he took there.

I push off the opposite wall — I skipped a class so I could be here when he got out of his, but whatever — and give him a bright smile. He notices me pretty much immediately, and heads over to stand next to me. His smile is smaller than usual; honestly it probably hurts him to smile, considering the three punches to the face. One to the right side of his jaw, two to the left. I know exactly how many times I hit him; I can see the scabbed over nick to his left ear from here.

"You know," he says — he sounds tired — with a bit of a resigned tone, "you're never going to keep decent grades if you keep skipping classes."

I _want_ to ask him how he is, but I'd need an excuse to actually notice the bruises and say anything. Well, time to go straight on to the oblivious idiot plan. No problem.

I sling my arm around his shoulders, making sure I'm on the side that he's not protecting with his bag. "Psh, _grades_. I'll make them up." I start steering him out towards the yard for lunch. I don't want to do this while there are other people around to see; he doesn't need anyone here to know that he's hurt. "You'll totally help me, right?" He looks at me askance, huffs out a breath that sounds like a snort, and I let my smile slip to a grin. "Yeah, you _totally_ will. It's just checking, Jay, you know that."

"Yeah, cause you make stupid mistakes and then expect me to fix them instead of just checking it yourself." He rolls his eyes, but then his mouth curves in a small grin — I can see the glint of pain in his eyes, but try not to pay attention to it — and he continues, "I swear I should just tie you to a fucking chair and make you read over your own stuff before you hand it in. That would solve everything. It's like two minutes, Dick. How do you not have _two_ minutes?"

Because of patrol, work on cases, making sure none of _my_ bruises show, and a hundred other things that keep me busy enough Alfred has to press me into sleeping every night, but Jason can't know any of that. "Just don't have the attention span to sit still I guess," I answer instead. It's a lie, but I've told Jason worse lies before. "Come on, Jay, you don't _really_ mind, do you?"

He shakes his head as we cross through the open doors and out onto the lawns. "No," he admits, "not really. Unlike you I actually _like_ the work."

That's another thing about Jason that doesn't quite gel for me. It's weird. Jason actually _likes_ school, and classes, and homework. He actually seems to be pretty good at them too. I mean, as far as I can tell he hasn't been in a school in years, and before that he was in whatever excuse for a public school was closest to him. That can't have been a good education, and he missed a fair amount of grades, but it looks like whatever test they had to place him in Gotham Academy put him right back in the grade he should be at for his age. Not just that, but my work doesn't seem to phase him at all, and it's a couple grades higher. Jason isn't just competitive, I'd say he's actually got a pretty damn good work ethic considering he's just fourteen, and he's probably pretty smart. Not in a genius kind of way, not like Bruce, but he's got a brain.

"You're _really_ strange, you know that?"

He gives a laugh, and I ignore it when it hitches in the middle along with his breath. "Uh-huh, I like work and you can't sit still for two minutes. Who's the strange one, Dick?"

"Touché." I lead him around to the preferred spot I showed him early on. It's a little blank spot around a corner of the building, sandwiched between the tennis court fence and the wall of the building itself. There's a tree blocking most of it, but if you slip past that there's actually some room behind it. I found it when I first came here; it was a nice place to get away. The people in the tennis court can still see you, if they look, but otherwise you're totally hidden.

"So what class did you skip?" Jason asks, as he slips his bag off his shoulder and lets it fall down next to the fence. It catches on his wrist for a second, and I pretend that I miss the wince he gives. "What should I be ready to fix for you?"

"Ha-ha," I deadpan. "Just math; relax, Jay." I tighten my grip on his shoulders for a moment, adjusting the weight of my own bag over my far shoulder, and then mentally brace myself and start the idiot discovery. I let go of his shoulders after one last squeeze, and then smile as I laugh and swing my hip to nudge him. It's nothing we haven't done before, but I can't help feeling like it's cruel because I _know_ it's going to hurt him.

Because of our different heights my hips hits his waist, and he jerks to the side and folds partially over with a pained gasp. His left hand snaps to his side, and I let myself turn towards him with a sharp inhalation. Jason's face is twisted into a grimace, and his left arm is protecting his side and stomach but not putting any pressure on it.

"Jesus, Jason, are you alright?" I let all of my concern and my worry come out in that question, because I've felt like shit ever since I hurt him and it's a total lie but I know I'll feel a little better if he forgives me. It's _stupid_ , and it's manipulative, but I just want to hear him say it. The pull of the bandage over my right shoulder isn't doing a thing to stop my guilt; Selina scratched me, but it wasn't enough to even need stitches. They'll be faint scars, if anything.

"Fine," he hisses, "I'm fine." He straightens up a bit, but then steps back and leans against the fence.

"Bullshit you're fine." I drop my bag to the ground and move towards him, and he bats at my hands with one of his but it's not enough to stop me from grabbing his shirt and pulling it up. I don't even have to fake the gasp that leaves me when I see the patterns of dark brown, black, and blue bruising across his sides and stomach. I didn't know I hit him that hard; was his armor thinner than I thought?

"Knock it off," Jason snaps, pushing my arm away and forcing me to let go of his shirt. "I'm _fine_ , alright?"

"What happened?" I demand, because I have to. "That's not _fine_ , Jason. Did someone attack you? I mean—"

" _Stop it_ , Dick!" Jason almost snarls. "It doesn't matter, okay? It was just a mistake on my part, alright? Just an accident. Slammed myself into one of those protective rope railings down by the docks, that's all. Leave it alone."

Even my persona as Dick Grayson, shallow heir to the Wayne fortune, isn't quite _that_ dumb. "Uh-huh, and when did you go down to the docks between yesterday and this morning? _Why?_ " He winces, opens his mouth and then closes it again with nothing actually escaping, and I sigh. "You don't have to lie to me, Jason. If bullies cornered you—"

"Let it go, Dick," Jason says quietly. "Sure, yeah, some of them cornered me. It doesn't matter; pain's not real new to me. I'll deal with it."

I step a little closer, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. "They're just going to do it again if you let them get away with it," I point out, and oh it _stings_ to be lying to his face knowing that _I'm_ the reason he's hurt. "You could go to the principal, he'd—"

"He'd tell me to be more careful and criticize me for fighting," Jason snaps, and his eyes are narrowed. "Look, Dick, I'm the new kid, alright? I'm the street rat. There is _no_ proof anything happened to me apart from the bruises, and no witnesses to back me up even if they'd actually say a damn thing. There is _nothing_ the principal could do on just my word, and he'd rather believe that I was the problem anyway and got them somewhere else. It wouldn't work, so let it go. I'll watch my back a little better next time."

Even if the bullies excuse I gave him was true, Jason's got a point. Without proof, it's likely no one would believe him. No one except Selina anyway, and obviously she won't be bringing this up. I just hope I'm the only person that notices Jason's bruises, because some weird questions could come up otherwise. Questions he probably won't have any way of answering.

I wince, but duck my head into a nod. "Alright, you win. Still, you should take self defense classes or something, Jay. This isn't alright."

He shrugs, tilts his head a bit, and gives a crooked smile. "I have. Doesn't matter; I couldn't hit back without getting in trouble. Would give them the excuse that I started it." That smile fades away, and I can see him relax as he straightens up from the protective curl. "Look, it's my business, okay? I don't need or want your help, so just leave it alone. If I change my mind, or anything really bad happens, I'll let you know. Till then, let me deal with it my own way." Jason snorts, gives a second crooked smile that's nearly a grin. "Promise, I've taken worse before. This isn't going to stop me."

I force myself to give a small smile back, and to agree with a quiet, "Alright, Jay. Your call," but my mind has stuttered to a halt. I know Jason doesn't know who I am, but that last sentence still felt deliberately aimed, even if it wasn't actually at _me_.

This won't stop him?

I beat him black and blue, I make him bleed, I make him _lie_ to the face of what might be his only friend, and he's not even shaken? That can't be right, can it? I mean, I knew there was a chance that showing him the reality of what being Stray meant wouldn't do anything, but I didn't think it was likely. Most people back off when they realize that being a criminal — and fighting Bruce and me — will hurt like hell sometimes, at least the people who can afford to. Jason's not at all hurting for money, not as Selina's new son, so I'm not totally sure what he's getting out of the whole arrangement.

He already rejected the idea that it was because Selina was demanding it, or because he thought he had to. He said he _liked_ it, so all I can assume is that somehow that enjoyment is overruling the fact that I put him in a lot of pain, and I'm going to again. That's kind of impressive, but also worrying.

If I can't get him to give this up by making him see it's not fun and games, then that puts me in an _awful_ spot. It just means I have to keep fighting him and keep hurting him. Bruce and Selina have their game, and the only thing that's going to happen is I'm going to get clawed up some more by her if I try and actually get Jason arrested. Not that the charges would ever stick; he wouldn't even spend more than a few minutes in the station considering he's a minor on top of all of Selina's connections and her protection.

That leaves me with having to stop him from actually committing any crimes, but I can't arrest him or hurt him _too_ badly or I'm going to get a world of hate from Selina and a lot of disapproval from Bruce. It's total bullshit, honestly. This is all because of his weird dance with her; if it wasn't for that I could just catch Jason in the act, get the proof, and hand him off to the police. That would be that. At least until he got back out again.

I don't like the idea of having to fight Jason again and again just to keep the status quo with Selina, but there's nothing I can do about it. Yet, anyway. I guess I can at least be a little nicer next time, and not leave him with quite so many nasty bruises. I could use it as a chance to practice weird moves, or specific styles of combat. I mean, if I can't do anything productive with the fight I can at least make the _fight_ productive. Or something.

I'll figure something out.


	8. Protégé Problems

Welcome back! So, to get one thing out of the way real quick, I'm going to slow down Stray!Verse updates to every third time I post something. Just to give me a bit more cushion for writing new chapters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Have fun!)

No **warnings** for this chapter.

* * *

"What about… this one?"

Jason holds up another movie out of his shelf, and I stretch my neck up to see the title. "Is that romance?" I wince, since he can't see me. "How about something with a little more action?" My persona demands I hold my tongue and not say _why_ I don't want to watch anything with romance, but I force a small grin to make it seem normal just in case he looks back. Which he does; good for me.

Jason flashes a grin back at me, and then pushes the romance back onto the shelf and starts scanning titles again. "Sure, we can do that."

There's the click of heels against tile farther into the loft apartment that Selina and Jason share, and I turn my head towards the door to Selina's room. It takes a bit — that had to have been the bathroom she was walking on — but the door swings open and she steps out. She's dressed up to the nines, and _god_ help me but I can't stop myself from sweeping my gaze down her before I wrench it away. She's in a sleeveless dark red dress that hugs every inch of all her curves, lips to match the color and sweeping lines of eyeliner that make her eyes really pop into focus. The dress falls all the way to the tops of her black heels, and she's got a hand bunched near her left hip — the same hand holding a small black clutch — pulling it up about an inch so her feet are clear on that side; the other has a slit up all the way to her thigh. She's also wearing small, dangling earrings that glint at even the smallest movement of her head. Diamonds, I'd bet.

I keep track of her at the corner of my vision, watching her move forward and then around the back of the couch I'm sitting on. I lose track of her when she's directly behind me, at least until one of her hands clenches down on my right shoulder, and I feel her breath at my ear.

Jason is still involved with the shelves, so he doesn't see it when Selina hisses, "Watch yourself, _Robin_. You hurt him and I will hunt you down." Then she's letting go of me and sweeping around the rest of the couch, heading for Jason.

I smother the tinge of wariness to my thoughts, pushing it down and just watching as she leans down and ruffles his hair. He makes a face, but he also twists to look up at her with that same grin that he aimed at me. I really wish that I could summon the kind of happiness that he seems to be living in right now. I'd pay quite a bit to be as carefree and happy as he is right now, I've felt boxed into being miserable for days now.

"Alright, boys," she says with a smile, shooting me another glance that's way more friendly than her warning. "Have fun, don't break anything that can't be replaced. I'll be back late, so don't wait up." She leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Jason's forehead. "If you need anything—"

"I'll call," Jason finishes. "Have fun, Selina."

She straightens back up and ruffles his hair one more time. Then she's turning around and heading for the door, her stride long and confident. The door clicks shut behind her, and Jason's gaze returns to the shelves.

"What about this?" he asks, pulling out some movie and holding it out towards me.

I read the title, and then shrug. "Seen it; good movie though."

He pops it open and reaches for the DVD player, slotting it in and tossing the case aside. Then he rocks back on his heels and stands, circling around the coffee table to drop onto the couch next to me. "Good enough for me," he says, with a small grin. He grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and then promptly mutes it as the movie starts to autoplay.

I raise an eyebrow, faking a small laugh. "Isn't the point of a movie to watch it?" I ask.

"It is," he agrees, but he's watching me instead, "usually." He shifts, gets a little more comfortable, and that smile fades away. "So, what's going on with you?"

I pause, trying to think if I've given anything away. Anything at all. "What do you mean?" I'm stalling, definitely, but hopefully he won't recognize that.

Jason snorts. "Come on, Dick. Maybe I haven't been your friend for a real long time, but I can tell when you're not happy. Smile and laugh all you want, but you're _quiet_." He cracks a small grin. "You're fucking _never_ quiet, Dick. So what's going on?"

I stare at him, and then shake my head and give another shrug. "It doesn't really matter."

"Matters to me," Jason counters instantly. "Look, you don't _have_ to tell me, Dick, but I'd like to hear it. If I can't help, it might still feel good to vent? I dunno, I really don't have any experience in things like this but that's just my thought." His tone is sincere, if maybe a little embarrassed, but he _does_ sound worried. Just more proof that at his heart Jason is a good, _kind_ person and Bruce _refuses_ to see it.

How can he—?

I watch Jason for a second, as his gaze drops away and I strangle back my frustration and anger. But the feeling is building in my chest and Jason is a _good_ friend, I know he is. I don't have to tell him everything, just enough to give him the truth. He doesn't need to know more than that; however good a person he is, he can't know who I am yet. I can't trust him enough for that; bad enough that Selina knows who we are. I can't imagine that Jason will stay ignorant of who we are for that long, she'll probably tell him at some point. But just because he can't know who I am doesn't mean that I can't at least talk to him about what's going on with me.

"I just…" He looks up at me, and now _I'm_ the one to lower my head and avoid his gaze. I raise a hand to scrub over my face, and continue, "My dad — Bruce — he's… You wouldn't know, you only see him at parties, but he can be kind of a controlling bastard sometimes. I… It's like everytime I turn around I'm disappointing him somehow, and I'm _never_ as good as he wants, or doing what he wants me to. And everytime I try to go against him he threatens to take away," _Robin_ , "his support, and it's just…" I force a smile, meet his eyes again. "Rough. I'll be fine, Jay."

Jason's making a face somewhere between sympathy and irritation on my behalf. "Yeah? This a new thing, or…?"

I can't help snorting. "Not really. On and off since he took me in, but it's gotten worse as I've gotten older. Maybe he's always been this way, and it just didn't bother me before. I'm not sure which of us changed."

Jason shifts over, sliding closer to me and reaching out to grab my closer hand. Gratefully, I interlace my fingers with his and try not to cling too closely to the contact. Jesus, I hadn't realized how much I missed casual touch. "Sounds like a real dick," he says. It's definitely partly a joke, proved by the flicker of a small grin, but the rest of it is serious.

I manage to echo his flicker of that grin, squeezing his hand. "Ha-ha. No, it's…" I try and choose my words carefully, but it all falls apart in my head. "Most of the time it's fine. He's right, he knows more than I do and usually he _does_ know the best way, but… I don't know." I give a small shrug. "Maybe I just need some space or something to remember that. There's an apartment he owns in Bludhaven, it's close enough to commute to school for a little while, but it'd just be me there. Maybe I'll just stay there until things cool off."

It's not the first time I've thought about it, honestly. Not by a long shot. Bruce and I have been fighting on and off for most of this year, a lot more than usual, and every time it gets really bad I think about just leaving for awhile. I'm not legally an adult, but I'm old enough to move out. I could do it. I don't think Bruce would stop me, and I'm not sure if that reassures me or just frustrates me some more. He should care about more than his damn mission, shouldn't he? I swear he used to.

"Wait, so you want to go off to the city next door so you can think about it and remind yourself that he's right and you should just listen to him?" Jason sounds disbelieving, and then he squeezes my hand back and spits, " _Fuck_ that. I don't care if he pays your way, he doesn't _own_ you, Dick. He can be wrong." Jason's mouth curls into a small smirk, and he tilts his head to one side as he finishes, "Or he can just be an _ass_."

That forces a startled laugh out of me, and I shake my head as my mouth curls into a small grin. "Don't like him much, do you?"

"Oh yeah, _big_ secret there." Jason's tone is pretty sarcastic, but he's got a point. I've always known that he doesn't like Bruce, I'm just not entirely sure what the reasons for that are. It could be as simple as his game with Selina, or it could be a whole lot more complicated. "Seriously though. Take time if you want, but don't do it just so you can go convince yourself that you're in the wrong; there's two sides to whatever you're fighting about. Maybe time apart won't fix whatever the problem is."

He's got a point, but it only brings me around to the other idea circling around in my head. "So I don't come back," I offer quietly, watching for his reaction.

I see it in the slight widening of his eyes and the way his fingers clench down over mine for a second. He's shocked. "You mean, _stay_ in Bludhaven? But there's school, and…" I'm pretty sure the last bit of that sentence is 'me.' Honestly, that's a good chunk of why I haven't just left Gotham and Bruce behind me.

If I leave, then I leave Jason behind as well. He doesn't deserve that, and I don't want to just abandon him. Not as myself, and not as Robin. Jason's also part of why I've been able to take the fighting this long; having someone else to interact with is pretty much the one thing keeping me from really exploding. Jason's a sweet kid, and he's better off with me here.

"There are other schools," I hedge. "Maybe it would be better if I left now, before one of us says something we can't take back."

Jason looks a little bit stricken, but he's hiding it well. Just not well enough that I miss it. "Stay," he says softly, and then his mouth curls in a forced smile and his tone lightens. "If you leave, who am I supposed to make fun of for being terrible at homework, Dickie? Not leaving me with many other options there."

It doesn't fool me, not even a little bit, but it still works. I can handle Bruce for a little longer. I'll manage it somehow. "Alright," I murmur. "I'll stay." I force a small grin, and shrug a shoulder as I say, "Who knows? Maybe the worst of it's already over." I don't believe it, but I can hope.

Jason's hand squeezes mine, and his smile eases to a more natural one. "You know, you're always welcome here if you just need to get away. I'm sure Selina wouldn't mind."

Oh I think she _would_ , but I also don't think she'll say anything. Not to Jason anyway.

"Thanks, Jay."

* * *

"Alright, see that?"

Selina's voice is a whisper, pitched to reach only my ears and nothing else. One thing I learned pretty fast — I already knew it a little bit before Selina — is that you've gotta have a specific kind of voice to keep anything you say from just bouncing across the rooftops to anyone else listening. Gotham does weird things to sounds, especially up here.

I shift my binoculars down a bit so I can see the tiny figure looping around the side of the gallery. "Got him," I return in the same style of whisper. "Ten minute loop, give or take. That's the one with the limp, he's about a minute slower than the rest."

"Twitchier too," Selina corrects, and I can feel the trail of her fingers down the back of my hood. "Keeps a hand on his gun. We want him as far from where we'll be as possible, the others are faster but they won't be as quick to go for a gun if they spot us." She shifts beside me, pressing her hip against my leg where we're laid out across the gravel rooftop side by side. "Tell me how you'd get in, sweetheart."

I consider the building, taking a glance over what I can see of it and thinking about what I remember of the different guards and their different patrol routes. "Not sure," I admit. "Based just on the guards, scaling the wall and going in by the roof would be easiest, but I'd need to take a look at the schematics and maybe take a closer walk to pick out where the cameras are or take a look as a civilian to check out the security. Sewer entrance might be better, if it has one."

Selina gives a satisfied sound. "Good answer, kitten. Then let's go get closer, shall we?"

Selina pushes back and gets to her feet, and I pull the binoculars away from my face and follow her up. She smiles at me, with just an edge of challenge, and then she's taking off. I follow at her heels, the stretch of muscles feeling pretty damn good after sitting still for that long. I don't catch her of course — her legs are still so much longer than mine — but I keep pace pretty decently. Not that it matters; I know that she would never leave me behind. She still insists on watching me most of the time, just in case. I don't mind.

I especially don't mind when that means that she bails me out of fights with Robin. None of them have been as painful as that first fight, but he's still winning and I'm still _definitely_ losing when we tangle. I don't really mind that either. It's painful, but it's also a lot of fun.

Selina stops on a much closer apartment building, looking down at the two-storied, grey square of the gallery we're considering. She guides me to crouch down at the ledge, this time with a smirk that tells me just how much fun she finds all of this. I echo it.

Then a low, threatening rumble of a voice cuts through the silence. "Don't even _think_ about it."

I freeze up for half a second, but Selina only turns in a slow swivel of graceful movement with that smirk widening a few degrees. "Think about _what_ , darling?" she asks, hips cocking to one side and her chin raising high to meet Batman's dark glower.

Of course Robin's at his shoulder, but he's almost as serious looking as the Bat himself. So, this is going to be another fight. Well, could be fun. I'm pretty much all healed from last time; got a few lingering bruises but none of them are important. Robin doesn't look like he's in a good mood, or maybe he's just being serious again and once I throw a few jokes and teasing comments he'll crack some. I really do love being able to make him grin, even if it's just because he's enjoying kicking my ass. Hey, I'm a fan of our fights too. No judgment from me.

I start to shift forwards, extending my claws, and then Selina's hand comes down on my shoulder, gently reeling me back in. I glance up at her, a little confused, but I put the claws away again.

"Leave the gallery alone," Batman snaps. The cape is hiding his hands, but I'd bet there's a batarang in one and a smoke bomb in the other. Just to cover all the bases.

Selina flashes a completely fake smile and tugs me closer to her. "The gallery? Oh, are we _that_ close to it?" She glances down at me, and then returns that brilliantly fake smile to Batman. "I was just enjoying a night time run with my darling Stray. Getting paranoid, Batman?"

Batman's jaw clenches, and then he gives what sounds like a sigh and says, "Selina…" It sounds frustrated, but almost resigned. I resist the urge to snort. "Robin," he snaps, and Robin's head turns to him. "Watch them; I'll check the gallery."

There's something in the way that Robin's arms cross that feels a little off, and the smile he aims at Batman's back looks a little tight and unnatural. "Sure, B." But it's easing so fast, and his attention is turning towards Selina and me, that I'm half convinced I imagined the moment even happened. Batman glances back, there's a beat of silence, and then he's striding forward.

He comes close enough for Selina to touch as he sweeps past her, but she just watches him go by and doesn't close the distance. Just offers him a wink and blows a kiss. I roll my eyes behind my mask, and wait to look back at Robin until Batman has snagged the grapnel from his belt and is swinging down off of our building. Selina casually takes a seat on the ledge of the roof, one leg crossing the other as she watches what I assume has to be Batman. I consider joining her for a moment, but ultimately decide that I'm not real interested in watching her stare at Batman like he's either a piece of meat or the meaning of her life. Nah.

I head for Robin instead. His eyebrows are hidden underneath the domino mask, but I can see the muscles move and I just _know_ he's raising one of those eyebrows at me. I grin in answer, and he snorts. I'm not sure why he doesn't fall into some kind of a more ready-to-fight stance as I get close to him, but I'd guess it's something to do with the fact that my claws are sheathed, and he's still miles better than me. Even with his arms crossed, he could probably still stop anything I'd try.

I draw myself to a stop about three feet in front of him. He's taller than me, so I have to tilt my head up a bit to meet his gaze, but he is at least looking down at me. He doesn't say anything, just watches me with an expression that looks like he's wondering what I'm doing. So I decide to break the silence with the very first sentence that pops into my head.

"Nice night, hm?"

His mouth curls up at one corner, just a tiny bit. "It's alright." He tilts his head a bit, gives a small movement of his shoulders that might be a shrug. "Slow."

I rock onto my heels and then my toes, just to feel the movement and the shift of weight. "You guys have slow nights?"

Robin glances at Selina, and then gives a crooked smirk that looks almost grimly amused. I don't think I like the way that expression looks on his face. Serious is one thing, grim is another. "Criminals don't come out in droves every night. Not even in Gotham. Don't always find it either, need a bit of luck to be in the right place at the right time."

"I know," I answer instantly, and I get a flicker of surprise before that smirk turns into a smile and his arms drop down to his sides.

"Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?" His voice is quiet, softer now, and his smile actually looks real. "Do I even want to know how many times we've missed you?"

I give a short laugh. "Probably not. Don't you see the stolen item reports later on?"

"You have no _idea_ how many reports we filter through," Robin says, with a shake of his head. "There's a folder marked for the two of you though, with what we think you did." It's a bizarre reaction, but damn if that doesn't make me _proud_. I grin, and he laughs. "Careful, Stray. You'll start thinking you can pull off anything."

"Nah, that's what _you're_ here for." I don't really recognize the words as truth until I say them, but then it clicks.

Yeah, Selina and I could pull off just about anything, I really believe that. But with Batman and Robin on patrol, and hunting us? Sometimes we're going to lose. Robin is going to be beating me for a _long_ time, I know that. I've seen what overconfidence can do to people, and how it gets them hurt. With Robin always there as my better, how the hell could I ever think that I'm invincible, or that I can't fail sometimes? Maybe someday I can beat Robin, but I'm never going to believe that he can't beat me in return. He'll keep me grounded.

Robin snorts, clearly not believing me, and I duck on instinct when he swipes a hand at my head. He misses me, and then the mood changes just as fast as it did that first time I ever met him. Robin grins, and then he's dropping like a lead weight. All his weight gets caught on the tips of his fingers and his right heel, and his left leg sweeps out towards mine. I jump and just barely get over the sweep. By the time I've landed he's followed the momentum all the way around and is facing me again, and both his hands are lashing out. It's just a _shove_ , but the power behind it makes me stagger backwards as I try and not topple over.

I grin back at him as I find my feet, digging my heels into the gravel to find better footing and curling my hands as if I've got my claws out. Not that I'm going to pull them out, but this is practice as much as it's play and I'd like to do it like I'd really fight. I'm not going to claw the shit out of Robin, but I'll pretend like I am. It's just another exercise of remembering that I'm smaller, lighter, and weaker. Move _faster_.

Robin darts at me, straight on, and even though instinct says I should, the smarter part of my mind convinces me _not_ to brace for impact. I will _not_ win that competition. I bring my weight further down, balancing on my toes and waiting for him to get a little closer. He swings at me — reaching for a grab it looks like — and I duck and launch myself forward and to the side, underneath that swinging arm. I slide around his waist, trailing the fingers of my outside arm along the gravel for balance as I duck underneath the flutter of his half of a cape. He's spinning to meet me, _always_ following his own momentum to speed himself up, and I take a page out of his book.

I push off my heels and into a backwards handstand, flinging both my legs up in the direction of where his face and arms are going to be as my back curves and my hands brace on the gravel. I don't hit anything, but he doesn't hit me either and I count that as progress. At least until my feet come all the way around and back to the floor, and I stand up to him being practically in my face already. He's still got that easygoing grin, but the hands that grab my upper arms and drag me forward are pretty hard. His knee hits my stomach, and it's not nearly as hard as he's hit me before but it's enough to hurt and to knock a bit of the air out of me. He lets me go with a soft push backwards, and I wince and straighten up.

"I win," he announces, looking far too pleased with himself.

Still I can't help but grin back, even as I roll my eyes and snort. "What a big surprise," I tease. "I mean, it's like you've got a bunch of years of experience on me. Imagine that."

He gives a small laugh. "Imagine that," he echoes, and then steps forward and up to my side. His entire posture has relaxed, and I find myself relaxing too because of it. "When you do that back handspring, raise your head as soon as possible afterwards, and keep your gaze on your opponent for as long as possible while you're doing it too. Ideally you shouldn't lose track of them for more than a quarter of a second." I blink behind my mask, staring at him, and he nudges my shoulder with his. "Here, do it again with that in mind."

"Are you… giving me advice?" I ask, not really believing it. "You know we're enemies, right?"

Robin shrugs, glances towards Selina for a moment — she's still staring off the side of the building — and then smiles at me. "Only when you're trying to steal things. Not doing that right now, are you?" I shake my head, and that smile becomes a grin. "So come on, do that move again."

I glance behind me, checking the distance to the edge of the roof — I've got plenty of room still — and Robin steps back to give me a little bit of room. I brace, coil, and then let myself fall back into the controlled arch of the move. This time, I try and keep Robin's advice in mind, watching around my own body towards where he'd be if this wasn't just practice. It feels awkward to crane my head down like that, but it does let me see for a while longer before I'm upside down and there's no way I can anymore. Then, in the second half of the move, I pull my head up as soon as I can, almost before my feet have even touched the ground again.

"Better," Robin allows, when I'm back on my feet. "Just something to keep in mind; you want to be able to see your opponent as much as possible. Any move that puts your back to them for longer than a fraction of a second is probably a dumb move to make against anyone who knows how to fight."

"Got it." I stretch my arms out, and give him what I'm sure is a cocky grin as I ask, "Any other tips?"

Another laugh, and Robin shakes his head. "A lifetime," he answers with a smile. "Your acrobatics could use some fine tuning, but the only way you're going to get better is with practice. For combat…" The smile widens into a grin. "Maybe try remembering that you have fists and feet, not just claws. Blades are nice, but your _body_ is the weapon. You can't do anything with a blade if you never land a hit. Try clicking your claws out only when you need them; it'll surprise some people if they're expecting a fist and get claws instead. Don't just put them out there; if you can't make a fist because of your claws then the only threat is the actual claws, and there are only so many ways to attack with those."

Suddenly he's moving, and I admit that I gasp when he's almost instantly in my face. His left hand slams a punch into the center of my chest — hard enough to knock the wind out of me — and then his right hand is grabbing my left shoulder and leaning weight into it. As I gasp for a breath his right leg plants firmly behind mine, and he's twisting and pushing me off balance. The leg behind mine kills my support, and I fall sideways and back. His left hand grabs my arm as I fall, pulling it up.

I hit the ground on my left side, his right hand splayed over my shoulder and his left wrapped around my right wrist. He's on one knee, and before I can start to struggle he's pulling my arm up and over the knee he has raised, bending to the point where my elbow locks and it shoves my shoulder forward. He holds me there for just a second, and then lets go. I fall onto my back, and he's _grinning_ down at me.

"A hand," he starts quietly, "can punch," he taps the center of my chest, "grab," another tap to my left shoulder, "or manipulate." That last tap is to my right arm, and then he lays his arms over his raised knee and smiles at me over them. "All claws can do is slice."

I grunt in something like acknowledgement, and then bring myself together enough to admit, "Fair point. What, you trained with claws before?"

"Didn't have to," he counters. "Studied how Catwoman fights with them, trained myself to get around her tactics." His head tilts a bit, and he reaches down and pats my shoulder. "Sorry, Stray, but she taught you all the same things she does." His grin turns teasing, and so does his tone, as he finishes, "You're just not as good as she is at them."

I make a mock offended noise — not like it's not the truth — and roll to swipe at him with my left hand. He leans back out of the way, and then he's laughing and so am I. I let myself lie on my back, my left arm loosely hooked over my stomach and happiness warm in my chest. Enemy or not, Robin can be kinda _fun_ once he gets over that initial serious behavior. And yeah, he's still so _pretty_.

I wonder what his eyes look like when he's laughing.

" _Robin!_ "

I cut off at the same moment that Robin does, but it actually almost looks like he _cringes_ at the disapproving snap of Batman's voice across the rooftop. He gets to his feet faster than I do, turning around. Batman is standing by Selina, who has some of that same predatory thing going on as she looks up at him, but she also looks a bit irritated. Why, I really don't know. Could be pretty much anything from him not looking at her, to his tone, to whatever he might have already said to her.

"Stay away from the gallery," Batman warns her, and then he's striding across the rooftop and away from all of us. Not another word to Robin; I guess they must have a lot of silent communication between them to make up for the total lack of actual _words_. Or maybe Robin just knows what's expected of him.

He turns back, offers me a one-sided shrug and a small smile. "Duty calls. See you next time, Stray."

Robin doesn't give me time to respond with anything more than a, "Yeah, sure," before he's hurrying after Batman.

I watch until both of them have dropped out of sight, and then force myself into motion to go cross over and sink down next to Selina. She meets my gaze, and then reaches out and pushes my hood back so she can run her fingers through my hair. She's got that faint sad thing going on again, and I just _hate_ it so much that I lean closer to her out of instinct. But that doesn't totally stop me from thinking about the weird feeling I got from the interactions between Batman and Robin. They just seemed _different_ than I remember them being any time before, and I can't quite pinpoint how or why but something has changed and I know it's _not_ good.

"What's going on with them?" I ask Selina, tilting my head into her hand. "I mean, you saw that, right? There's something weird going on, isn't there?"

Selina's smile turns soft, and her hand drops down to the back of my neck to pull me a bit closer. "Not even Batman and Robin get along all the time, sweetheart. They don't let their personal problems interfere with them being a team though; they'll work it out. They always have before." Her fingers comb back up through my hair, the glove sliding against my skin in a way that's weird but familiar at this point. "Besides, it's their business, kitten. We don't have any say in it."

I make a face, but I can see her point. Maybe there's something wrong between Batman and Robin, but that doesn't mean that it's my business. I don't really know either of them. "Alright," I agree. "So, are we heading home then?"

She looks down at the gallery, considers it for a moment, and then nods. "Yes. Let's leave the gallery alone for at least a few more nights." Her smile turns to a slightly wicked smirk, as she pushes up from the ledge and gets to her feet. "It'll give us time to look up those schematics, won't it, kitten?"

I can't help smiling back.


	9. Betting and Bluffing

Welcome back! So, in this chapter we get something very fun. Villain poker night! It's a lot of fun; promise. Hope you enjoy!

No **warnings** this chapter.

* * *

"Ready for this, kitten?" Selina's keeping her voice quiet, which is probably a good call since we're right outside of where she's promised to take me tonight.

Poker night. It's the one night a month that Gotham's more famous rogues come together and just socialize over some low key gambling and gaming. She's gone to a few without me, but has finally decided that I've been in this for long enough to introduce to one of these gatherings. I will totally admit that I'm a little nervous — this is _the_ group of Batman's enemies — but also kind of excited. This means it's real; this means that I'm really Selina's partner and now everyone else is going to know it too. Not just Batman and Robin, but _everyone_.

"Ready," I confirm, with a small grin.

She gives a small tilt of her head that's definitely a nod, and then reaches over to clasp her hand down on my left shoulder. "Now remember, no violence, and—"

" _Selina_ , I remember. I remember everything, okay? Relax, I'll be fine."

She sighs, but also gives a soft smile. "Alright, kitten. Let's head inside then." Her hand stays on my shoulder as she guides me the couple of feet to the alley door and twists the handle with her free hand, pushing it open. It goes without even a creak, which honestly for this kind of neighborhood is a little weird. It does feed into the idea that this is a real meeting place though.

The building it supposedly leads into is only one story high, but the door opens immediately to stairs that lead down into darkness. At least they do until I step inside and Selina closes the door behind us. The moment the door is closed real lights click on, and the stairway is fairly brightly lit again. Selina takes the lead, keeping me close to her back as we head down what feels like about one level's worth of stairs. Could be wrong, but that's what it feels like and since I've been running around on Gotham rooftops I tend to trust my sense of height and distance a little more than I used to. There's a door at the bottom — closed — that Selina stops briefly in front of, but only for a moment.

When she pushes it open noise spills out, and I have just enough time to realize that the room is soundproofed before Selina is pulling me in behind her. The door clicks shut, and the people gathered around the table in the center of the room look our way. I try not to swallow, or show any of how nervous that table and those gazes make me. At least I recognize everyone there.

Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Two-Face, Harley Quinn, and The Penguin. There are some faces missing, and some empty chairs around the pretty big table, but that's still a lot of turnout. I can't help swallowing, but then Selina's hand tightens on my shoulder a bit and I force myself to relax and let the nervousness go.

Yes, these people are extremely dangerous and I should be wary of them, but if Selina actually thought that they'd be a danger to me she would never have brought me to this night. The fact that I'm here means that I should be safe, and I don't have to be nervous. Also, Selina has my back, and I trust her. Maybe she's not good enough to beat all of the people in this room, but she's good enough to stall and she told me that one of the major rules in this gathering is that there's no violence. This is just a collection of Gotham's criminals enjoying a night to gossip and trade stories while they play games.

If violence was allowed, than it would be total chaos and no one would come.

Selina steers me forward, and I try and keep as much of the grace that Selina has taught me in my stride as possible. I have no _idea_ if it works, but I'm definitely going to try anyway. I also try to read the people at the table, at least as much as I can. Croc's impossible for me, Riddler's got a smirk that looks at least a little friendly, Freeze is expressionless, Penguin looks considering but not hostile, Harley has a wide grin, Two-Face's normal side seems to be smirking as well, and Poison Ivy has a small smile on her face. Half looking vaguely welcoming isn't bad, right?

The second thing I notice is that there aren't two empty chairs next to each other, but that's fixed almost as soon as I realize it. Harley's grin widens a little bit further, and in some weirdly graceful push and twist she's gotten up from her chair and settled down on Ivy's lap.

"Come sit by me, kitty!" she declares, wiggling her fingers towards the newly empty row of two seats even as she loops her arm around Ivy's shoulders. Ivy doesn't actually seem at all disturbed by her new seating arrangement, and it clicks as soon as I see Ivy's free arm — the one not holding a hand of cards — slide around Harley's waist, fingers splaying over one hip. Got it. However complicated it _really_ is, I get this part of it.

Selina doesn't hesitate, and I let her guide me over into the chair next to Harley and Ivy while she takes the other, with Killer Croc to her right. Harley almost immediately reaches for me, and Selina gives a light-sounding hiss over the top of my head. "Hands to yourself, Harley. This one's mine."

"Indeed," Penguin says from across the table. "Introduce us to your new litter, Selina."

Riddler gives a small laugh and a wider smile, his fingers tapping against the table. "Oh, the boy's not hers by blood. They don't share any genetic markers; different facial structure even accounting for the difference in gender."

Ignoring Riddler, Selina leans into her chair with a smile. "Everyone, this is my new protege, Stray." She looks briefly down at me. "Stray, you know who everyone is, right?"

"Yes," I answer, and I'm half tempted to circle around the table and name them all, but decide that's actually probably a bad idea. Probably. Oh, learning the facts on these guys does not at all compare to trying to actually decide what it's alright for me to say, and what might get my head snapped off.

"Oh, he's _adorable_ ," Harley gushes, and I turn my head to look at her.

Which means she's probably the first to see my wince when Croc says, "So the Cat got a new Kitten, big deal."

Harley's eyes _light_ up, and she gasps. "Kitten! Yes, that's _perfect_."

Oh _no_. "No," I try, " _don't_ call me that." It definitely doesn't come out as a plea. It definitely doesn't make any difference either. Just by expression I can tell that it's settled and done; I am _never_ getting rid of that nickname. Selina using it was one thing, but all the villains of Gotham? Oh _god_ , how long before Robin picks it up too?

Harley just laughs, and Ivy looks up at her and smiles before turning her gaze to me and offering a one sided shrug. "It's already done, Kitten."

I smother a groan, and from across the room Two-Face growls, "You know how to play, boy?" It takes me a second to realize he's talking about the actual poker game, and not whatever kind of mental game they all play with each other.

I shift in my chair, glancing over the cards. "Only vaguely," I admit.

"For _shame_ , Selina," Penguin says with so much offense it has to be mocking. "You bring poor little Stray here and don't even teach him how to play first?" He's smirking now, and Selina laughs. She doesn't seem at all phased by the fact that everyone here knows her name, but then I guess she's not really concerned about her identity being a secret, not with her past arrests and her mob connections.

"Oh, he's just watching this time." Which is news to me, but I can't say I'm not a little relieved. "I'll teach him how to play before next month." Her mouth curls into a smirk, and it's a little weird to realize that she is _completely_ comfortable here. There's nothing in her posture that even suggests fear. This is her in her real element.

That manages to relax me a little bit, and I ease back into my chair and take another look around the table. Freeze is still pretty much expressionless, though he is looking at Selina. Riddler has that small smirk apparently stuck to his face, and Penguin is grinning. Pleased with himself or with Selina's answer, I have no idea. Ivy looks satisfied with Harley in her lap, and Harley is still watching me with that wide, joyful grin. I still can't get anything off of Croc, but I think that's all because of what he looks like. Maybe I'll get better at reading him once I figure out what kind of expressions that lizard-face of his makes. For now I guess I could try reading his body language instead.

"Draw, hm? Deal me in on the next round, Riddler," Selina says with a smile, her left arm rising and hooking around the back of my chair and my shoulders. I turn my gaze down to the cards, and attention seems to turn mostly back to the game.

"Anyone else supposed to be showing up?" Penguin asks, with a glance around the table.

I really wasn't expecting Croc to be the one to answer, but he does anyway. "Don't think so," he grunts, throwing two cards down to be replaced. "You're fightin' with Scarface aren't you, Two-Face?"

Two-Face doesn't do anything but grunt a response, but the normal side of his face curls into a sneer that I'd bet is a yes.

"Crane will not be here tonight," Freeze says in a flat tone, his gaze shifting down to his cards. "He called about some manner of breakthrough in his newest fear gas formula. I doubt we will see him until next month, at the earliest."

"Of course," Riddler says with some measure of excitement in his voice. "Breakthroughs should always be explored to their full potential; who _knows_ what kind of inventions humanity would be without otherwise? Well, _cards_ on the table, Mad Hatter won't be coming either. He's back in Arkham, got nabbed by the Bat a couple days ago."

There's a general sneer and snort around the table, which is broken by Harley's dramatic sigh and half swoon. Ivy's arm supports the arch of her back without even a glance, like she's completely used to the suddenness of the movement.

"Stuck in there with my _Puddin'!_ " she laments, both hands going to clasp over her heart. Ivy rolls her eyes, and Riddler gives Harley a look I can only see as long suffering. "I miss Mistah J!" She gives what I think is a fake sob, one hand coming up to her forehead as she hangs in Ivy's hold. "He can always bring a smile to my face!"

Riddler flicks one hand towards his head, finger twirling in a brief but clear motion of 'crazy.' Ivy nods, but smiles and shifts her free shoulder in a shrug. All this happens in about a half a second, before Harley straightens back up and then curls her arms around Ivy's neck, leaning into her. Ivy pats her back, and tosses down a single card out of her hand.

"Black Mask?" Selina asks, ignoring the drama completely. There's a tint to her voice that sounds like distaste though.

Penguin scoffs. "Not invited, of _course_. Little fool upstart of a drug lord; he'll earn an invite when he learns respect for my empire and our reputations."

"Good," is Selina's answer. "So, I miss any good gossip before showing up?"

"We wouldn't start without you." Ivy's words come with a smile aimed in Selina's direction; over my head. "We've just been chatting." I turn my head enough to catch the edge of Selina's return smile. "Though I heard that you've been having quite the crime spree recently." Ivy's gaze lowers to me, the smile staying on her lips. "Been having fun learning the ropes, hm, Stray?"

It's the first question actually about _me_ , and I pause for just a second before I realize that there's nothing hidden in the question. No ulterior motive. So I offer a small grin back, and a, "Yeah. Definitely."

Ivy's smile curls up a touch more, but it's Riddler who actually speaks. "Well, the boy might be one of us at heart after all. Where _did_ you find this one? Last betting round, by the way."

Penguin makes a face that's close to a scowl, and then sets his cards down with a bit of disgust. "I fold."

Selina gives a laugh, I _assume_ it's at Riddler's question, and not Penguin's move. That's confirmed when she answers, "Stealing the tires off of Batman's car."

I think the whole table does a bit of a double take, and I squirm just a little bit at all of the sudden attention on me. I _really_ appreciate that Selina doesn't mention all the details of that story, like the fact that I was going to get caught without a doubt. It sounds impressive when you just say what I was _trying_ to do; what I was actually going to accomplish — pretty much nothing — is way less so.

Then Harley's breaking the silence by laughing, doing another one of those backward flops that's casually supported by Ivy's arm. "The Batmobile lost a wheel!" she singsongs, in the _very_ familiar tune of Jingle Bells. Then she's cackling, hanging partly upside down and clutching her stomach. I can't help staring, but the rest of the table manages to catch my attention again after a second.

Riddler's smirk seems more amused, but I don't think it's actually physically changed at all which is kinda confusing. Penguin has a smirk on his face too, though his looks appraising. Two-Face's normal face is curved into a small grin, and even Freeze's mouth is tipped up in a tiny smile. Honestly it's so small that I almost don't notice it. I was starting to think that he didn't actually make real expressions.

"Well, well." Penguin's smirk eases to just approval, the considering part of it melting away. "You _did_ find quite the little troublemaker, Selina."

I duck my head a little bit, mostly out of embarrassment. But I can see Selina's smile out of the corner of my eye, and her response is a softly confident, "I know. There's a reason I decided to keep him, Penguin." The embarrassment mixes with a swell of warmth in my chest, and Selina's arm lowers to clasp over my shoulder.

I manage to push away the feeling and raise my head again after a moment, to find them mostly returned to the cards. Harley is still cackling away, but I decide to take a cue off of the rest of the table and just ignore her. It seems to be what everyone else is doing, including Ivy, so it's probably the best way to deal with it.

"Alright," Riddler says, with a bit of anticipation. "Show your hands!" Cards flip down onto the table — it looks like everyone folded but Ivy and Freeze — and then Ivy gives a soft laugh. "Ivy's win," Riddler announces. "Pass in your cards and let's go another round!"

Ivy reaches forward with her free hand, getting a hand in the center of the small pile of bills at the center of the table and pulling them to right in front of her. Which is about when Harley apparently decides she's done laughing, because she sits up with a wide smile and loops her arms around Ivy's neck again.

"What'd you win, Red?" she asks quietly.

Ivy turns her head towards Harley, smiling and whispering something that I honestly try not to hear. Nope. Not my business. Interesting, and okay, yeah, maybe I've got a couple not so pure thoughts about the two of them that I might visit again later, but _not right now_. There would be so much murder. Public displays or not, I shouldn't be staring or listening in.

Riddler is shuffling, and Selina squeezes my shoulder once more before returning her arm to being draped over the back of my chair. "You've been quiet, Harvey. What's up?"

Two-Face shrugs, fingers tapping along the table before he raises his right hand to tap the side of his head once. "Planning something; I'm still listening. Congratulations on the sidekick."

"So, anyone out for this round?" Riddler asks, as he taps the deck of cards on the table. "No? Good."

He starts dealing cards, and Selina leans over to me and whispers, "Watch and learn, kitten." Then she's pulling away again and reaching into her belt with her opposite hand, retrieving a wallet that she opens up and leaves in her lap.

I watch everyone pick up their hands, and then carefully raise my hands and ease my hood back to lay on my shoulders. Ivy smiles at me again, though her cards are carefully hidden from both Harley and me, and then returns her attention to the table.

I relax, and lean forward to cross my arms over the edge of the table and rest my chin on them. Just settling in to watch.

* * *

In the theme of my current life, of course my friendship with Jason can't stay simple.

Even ignoring that he's Stray and a thief, or that he doesn't know that I'm Robin and has _still_ managed to become friends with me in that guise too, there's still Bruce's increasing disapproval to think about. I spend a _lot_ of time at Jason's home, and he spends a lot of time at mine. Bruce can't lecture me if Jason is in the way, and it's manipulative and a little cowardly but I do my very best to make sure that he's in the way as much as possible.

Of course, Jason doesn't know any of that. And _that's_ where the trouble starts.

I notice it before he says anything, but Jason is crushing on me. Maybe I should have expected it. Jason might be a couple years younger than me but he's smart and pretty mature for his age thanks to how he grew up. It honestly _probably_ should have occurred to me that if I set myself up as pretty much his only friend, and he had even the slightest leanings that direction, he could end up with a crush on me. Maybe I've been too friendly, too easy with touch, too welcoming to an idea that I _can't_ let happen.

He's too young, he's a criminal, and even if he wasn't both of those things I have too many different images to hold up to even consider the idea.

The heir of the Wayne fortune — however long that might last with how Bruce and I are fighting — can't be seen as anything but straight; the media would eat me alive. They really don't need any more ammunition to throw at me. And then there's _Robin_. I don't know how much longer that's going to last either, but until Bruce finally gets angry enough to take it away from me permanently I can't ruin that name either. I will _not_ let Jason be my own version of Selina; I just _can't_ stomach the idea.

None of that gives me any solution that I like though.

Jason is a _sweet_ kid, he really is. I'm not blind to the fact that a big portion of Kyle funds are getting funneled into charities and various good causes aimed at Gotham's more poverty-ridden areas. I know that's not Selina, which means it _has_ to be Jason and that makes too much sense for me to ignore. Jason grew up in Crime Alley, so if one of the two of them is suddenly donating massive amounts of money towards fixing that area up it has to be him. It even makes sense with his personality.

Jason doesn't seem comfortable with wealth, even in small ways. He avoids anything opulent and seems to be constantly aware of how much he's spending and considering of how necessary it is. If Selina is giving him even a small portion of what she's making fencing what they steal, Jason would have no clue what to do with that kind of money. No desire for it either; he's never struck me as someone who craves money or power. The only reason he's given me for being Stray is that he enjoys it, and I'd guess a big portion is also feeling like he belongs somewhere. Selina's given him that and more.

What else would Jason do with his extra money except give it away?

He's _kind_ in a way that I never expected him to be, and it makes the only solution that I've thought of hard to really consider. I can't just turn him down when he eventually gets the courage to ask, and I can't just bring it up and tell him it's never going to happen. I haven't decided yet what 'Dick Grayson; heir to the Wayne fortune' thinks about anyone not being straight, and I haven't decided how he'd react to one of his best friends — how _strange_ , that I count Jason as one of my best friends even though I haven't known him all _that_ long — coming on to him. More importantly, if I let it fester that long, and wait until Jason has the courage to really _ask_ me, I risk it becoming something more than a harmless crush. But, on the other hand, bringing it up and shutting him down early would reveal that I'm a lot more perceptive than I let on.

Better not to show Jason I'm anything more than he thinks I am, which really only leaves me the option of 'accidentally' shutting him down. The best way to do that is to convince him, like I've convinced everyone else, that I'm just straight. That's the best way to prove to him that there's no chance of this ever happening.

That thought lingers in my head for weeks, while I watch Jason work up courage and let all his little signs of his attraction show. Lingering looks, this _expression_ in his eyes that's almost like awe, the tiny flush to his cheeks whenever I throw my arm around his shoulders or ruffle his hair. He really is adorable, and it's nice to cement in my own head that even if there weren't all of these things in the way between us, I wouldn't accept Jason's advances.

He's kind, yes, and he's sweet, but he's also just too young. Two and a half years doesn't seem like much in the long run, but it does when I'm just about a month shy of turning seventeen and he's still fourteen. He's more like a younger brother to me than anything else, and _screw_ what Bruce thinks, I'm going to protect him like I would a brother. I don't want to see Jason get seriously hurt, and I'm so afraid that he will.

The moment finally comes when Jason is sitting next to me in our little hidden spot at school, our backs against the wall and his shoulder pressed to my arm. He draws in a breath that's a little deeper than the rest of them, nudges my shoulder, and haltingly says, "We should grab dinner or something… I mean, if you want?" His face stays firmly pointed towards the ground, avoiding my gaze, but I still stifle the wince just in case.

"Totally!" I force myself to answer, even though it stings to watch his head jerk up a little bit. Stings to see that flare of hope in his eyes knowing I'm going to burn it right back out. "We should totally go out for lunch, set up somewhere outside and watch the girls go by. Comment on the hot ones, and the cute. I'm personally a _big_ fan of redheads, you know?" It's not quite a lie, and I know that's what sells it.

Jason's expression falls for a moment, before he's forcing a smile and a small laugh. "Yeah, definitely. I don't know, I like black hair myself." It would be innocent, if it didn't also come with a small flick of his gaze up to _my_ hair. Yeah, I'd bet he does like black hair.

"Finally really hitting puberty, huh, Jay?" I nudge his shoulder, making him rock to the side a bit, and then extract the arm between us so I can loop it over and around his shoulders. "Oh man, I can teach you _so_ much about girls. They'll be all over an adorable kid like you, just gotta take advantage of it." Grind it in further, make it _hurt_ so he remembers. God, I feel like _shit_ for doing this. He doesn't deserve it.

Jason shakes his head, his shoulders drawing in a fraction and away from my arm. "No thanks," he says, with a smile that's only just shy of painfully fake. "Think I can handle it, Dick, I'll pass on the safe sex talk, thanks anyway."

I laugh, squeezing him in against my side. "Oh, that's _Selina's_ job. I'm here to teach you all the stuff that parents don't want you to know, Jay. I mean I could tell you so much about—"

" _No_ ," Jason almost snaps, but then he backtracks and smiles again. "Thanks, Dick, but it's not something I want to talk about, alright? Not really anyone I'm interested in, you know?"

Except me. Still, I smile down at him and squeeze his shoulder with my hand. "You got it, Jay. But hey, you ever want my advice just say the word, alright?"

He nods, swallows, and then murmurs, "Yeah. I will."

It hurts, but I push it away to that corner of my world where I push everything that hurts. Bruce's disapproval, Jason's crushed hope, and a dozen other facets of my relationships with both of them. I _can't_ talk it through with Jason, not without letting him in on secrets that he can't know, and any attempted talk with Bruce just ends in shouting and more threats between us. That's not going anywhere either.

Better not to let myself think about it.


	10. The Big Bash

Welcome! So, this is Dick's seventeenth birthday party. The whole thing; it's an ordeal (for the characters). Hope you enjoy!

 **Warnings** this chapter for: implications of familial abuse.

* * *

I fidget in my seat, adjusting the seat belt crossed over my chest. At least until Selina's hand snaps out and slaps my fingers away from it, even as she smiles at me. I make a face at her, trying to convey that I don't appreciate her more physical reminder to calm down, and she raises her hand to brush some of my bangs away from my face. I don't need her to actually speak to understand the message, and I roll my eyes and sigh. I do drop my hands back down to my lap though.

The driver in the front — I can see black hair underneath his hat, but nothing more — makes a turn, and I glance out the window to see the winding gravel driveway of Wayne manor. It goes quite a ways up though, so I lean back into the seat but also towards the window, to see how soon I can catch a glimpse of the house before we actually get there. Selina pats my head once, partially in reprimand if I know her, but then pulls away from me.

I just want some hint of what I'm getting myself into before I'm actually waist deep in it.

Dick invited me to his birthday party. As of today, he's seventeen. The age gap feels massive right now, but I know not all of that is just because of his birthday. I tried to…

A little over a month ago, I tried to see if Dick was at all interested in me. Because _fuck_ , but he's nice, he's fun to be around, he's good looking, and even if he can be kind of shallow and rich-boy sometimes, he's not nearly as bad as I used to think he was. He doesn't tend to show it, especially not in public or around other people, but he cares. Carefree, yes. Shallow, not usually. Plus, since that very first day that we met — over half a year now, _damn_ — he's stepped in to protect me and never stopped. Every time bullies even come near me he's stepping in between us with that easy smile and all that power and privilege that being Bruce Wayne's ward gives him.

It was a stupid, crazy, thought, but I _like_ Dick, and I just wanted to see if maybe he was even remotely interested too. No, as it turns out. Maybe he's not as straight as he seems, or maybe I just have bad luck and I happen to be crushing on not only my best — _only_ — friend, but also probably the straightest person I really know. Maybe I'm just that crazy.

And it's not… Yeah, I definitely _am_ crazy, because it's not the kind of crazy attraction that I've got towards Robin. Robin who kicks my ass on a weekly basis, leaves me with bruises and a limp I can usually only barely hide, but he's still so pretty that I can't help thinking about him. I don't know exactly what it says about me that the most common repeat guest in my private fantasies is _Robin_ , and not say, the two hot, bisexual women that I get to see flirt and kiss every month, usually in the chair right next to me, but it can't be good. Or maybe it's just something about that Robin is so pretty, and him I actually get to _touch_. Or try to, anyway. He's always the one pinning me down, and I don't think he's actually noticed so far — thank _god_ — but fuck if I don't come out of some of those pins flushed and breathing harder than I should.

Selina thinks it's _very_ amusing. I think she's being mean, and whenever she brings it up I make sure to point out how _she_ ends up after 'grappling' with Batman.

So it's weird. I like Dick, I think he's pretty _great_ , but then there's Robin. Robin, with his curls of black hair, his grace, all that _muscle_. Fuck, but I think I might know just a tiny bit of what Selina's thinking now when it comes to Batman. Maybe reversed though, because I'm not crazy enough to think that anything can actually happen with Robin. He's nice enough when we're not actively fighting, and his smiles are… Anyway, he's pretty cool, but he's _Robin_ and I'm a thief. It's not going to happen. I just can't stop myself from reacting because he's so damn pretty and I am _so_ at the mercy of my hormones. I can't decide if it's thrilling or just really frustrating, but I know I spend way too much time jacking off in the shower, or when I'm supposed to be sleeping.

Most of the time, to thoughts of a domino mask and the flash of teeth in a smile. To the feeling of hands twisting my wrists behind my back and the press of legs around my hips or between my legs. God _damn_ that pins require so much physical contact.

I squirm again, trying to push away thoughts of Robin because this is _not_ the place for him.

This is Dick's party, and maybe I'm not sure if I'm going to be completely bored out of my mind like that gala or if I can stick close to Dick's side and maybe actually enjoy myself, but it still deserves my attention. Robin might be attractive, but Dick is my friend and that does _not_ come secondary to my stupid fantasies. My stupid fantasies that are _never going to happen_. Dick might. It's not real likely, especially not with how straight he's seemed, but there's still an edge of hope in there.

Maybe I'll just watch and wait for a while, try and ferret out if Dick is actually straight or if he might have any kind of a leaning towards guys. I'm _not_ crazy when it comes to this though; he's _seventeen_. I'm fourteen, and even if he were interested it would be a little weird and more than a little creepy right now. Two and a half years really _isn't_ that much, but it's too much right now. He'll be eighteen when I'm still fifteen, and that's not a risk I should take.

Nevermind the actual _legal_ problems with it, _especially_ if the media actually gets ahold of the information, but I know he still sees me as a kid. It's stupid, but maybe if I wait until I'm actually eighteen he'll see that I'm more than that. God, waiting that long feels like _forever_ right now.

No matter what, I _need_ to not say anything until I've found out who he's attracted to. I'm not going to set myself up for another oblivious, painful rejection. If Dick is straight, that's where it needs to end. That's all I need to know.

I mean, it's not _likely_ , right? Aren't most people at least a little bit bisexual? Or is that just Selina and me being lucky?

Wayne manor comes into view — _finally_ — and I raise my head up an inch or so. All these nerves be damned, I'm still a little excited to be here. I'm always happy to be around Dick.

Selina's fingers brush my shoulder through the semi-formal clothing I'm wearing — almost exactly the same thing as last time, but a dark red t-shirt this time — and I turn my head to look at her. A touch to the neck or my hair is just her version of comforting, but my shoulder usually means she wants my attention.

She has a small, knowing smile on her face, and I tilt my head to give her room as she leans in to speak in my ear. " _No_ games like last time, alright, kitten? Promise me."

I roll my eyes. "Alright," I grudgingly agree. "I promise."

She's _totally_ overreacting. No one even noticed their things had been taken, and everyone got them back before they left. It was completely smooth, and harmless. Not once did I even get close to being caught. I get why she didn't want me to _keep_ the stuff — people were way more likely to notice it missing at the end of the night — but not taking it at all? What else am I supposed to do if this is as boring as the last time?

Maybe I'll just go exploring or something; manor's pretty damn big and I think I've only seen a fraction of it. There's gotta be something interesting in there somewhere, right? With a house _that_ big there has to be something interesting; at least books or something.

"Thank you," Selina says in a whisper, and then she's pulling away from me as we pull up to the front of the manor. I pop my seatbelt off, and _almost_ get to the door handle before she catches my wrist and breathes, " _Wait_."

I fidget, but make myself sit still until the driver has come around the side of the car and is opening the door for us. That part still grates at me, since I'm totally capable of opening a door by myself, but Selina insists that it's part of the rich kid image. Expect people to serve you and they'll assume that you're famous enough to serve.

Everything about it just rubs me the wrong way.

Selina slips out behind me, flashes a smile at the driver, and then slides her arm around my shoulders and steers me towards the manor. I barely resist rolling my eyes again, because thank you I _don't_ need to be guided anymore. I've probably been to the manor more times in the last few months than she has. Granted she usually doesn't tell me where she slips off to as Selina — and I don't want to know — whereas she insists I tell her whenever I leave. I get that. She seems to trust Dick enough to let us be around each other without supervision, even though I do catch her giving him _looks_ occasionally. Warning ones, as far as I can tell.

The front door is wide open, and it takes me until we're about halfway up the stairs to realize that if I can hear the music from here — and it's something with a bass beat, _not_ the classical stuff from last time — it must be fairly loud. It doesn't seem to phase Selina, and she's not letting me slow down any, so it must be something that she expected.

The music definitely is fairly loud once we're inside. Not as loud as I know clubs are — never been in one, but I slipped by enough of them near Crime Alley — but loud enough that it's a focus point, not background. Okay, so maybe I misjudged. I don't think this is a Wayne party, I think this is _Dick's_ party. Okay; gala versus party. Slight word difference, _big_ actual differences?

It's in the same ballroom as before, but oh yeah, way different decoration. There are the same buffet tables, but there's also a bar set up with three different bartenders, the lights are a little dimmed, and there are a _lot_ more people over by the dance floor. It's more crowded than before too, and the general age of people seems to be younger, although not actually mostly Dick's age. More like, thirties to forties, as opposed to last time where it seemed to be scaled more towards forties or above.

I get about four seconds to take that in before Selina squeezes my shoulder, leans down to say, "Dick is over _there_ ," with a sweep of her hand, and then promptly steps away from me and strides off. It doesn't take me more than a fraction of a second to track her direction to the straight, tall, _laughing_ figure of Bruce Wayne.

Figures.

I turn the direction that Selina waved me, and yeah, I can see Dick. He's tall and laughing too, surrounded by a circle of people that's predominantly women and mostly at least twice his age.

I swallow, force away my nerves, and head that direction. A lot slower than Selina headed towards Bruce, because I'm not sure what I'm stepping into and I'm not sure I actually want to be there. On the one hand _Dick_ is there, but on the other hand I still don't like crowds, and I don't like these people either. I'm not sure him being there is enough to cancel out how much I don't like the rest of them.

I realize before I get there that there's one _really_ obvious theme to the way they're talking to him. _Flirting_. Smiles, laughs, some of the same expressions that I've seen Selina use combined with all _kinds_ of inviting body language. It's… It's a little gross, honestly. He's _seventeen_. I mean, that's legal in some states but not here, and they're pretty old for him. Even if he mostly looks like he's grown into being an adult, even I can see that he hasn't lost all of that younger roundness to his cheeks or the ease to his smile. He's _not legal_.

I hover at the edge of the crowd for a moment, unsure how to actually get in there, but then he spots me. He smiles, warm and I can tell that one's real, and pushes forward between the crowd. They part like he's some kind of performer, and I only have time for one deep breath before he's pulling me into a one-armed hug and dragging me in against his side.

"Jason!" he exclaims, and my stomach drops a little bit.

This close I can feel the heat to his body, and more importantly I can see the slight flush to his cheeks and the way his eyes are a little bit lidded. I track from that to the glass in his other hand, filled with something dark mixed with a couple of ice cubes. _Definitely_ alcoholic. I have enough experience with drunk people to see the signs of them being tipsy, and mostly I learned to avoid them because people are _rarely_ fun to be around when they're drunk. I have a couple scars that can prove that.

I don't want Dick to be one of those people.

"Glad you could make it, Jay," he says, and gradually I realize the crowd has reformed around us and I'm really trapped here. Caught against Dick's side and with women all around.

"Wouldn't miss it," I force myself to say, against all the nerves building in my stomach. I _shove_ away the thought that I should get away from Dick before 'tipsy' turns to 'drunk' and he gets mean, and then the uneasiness from being trapped in a crowd of people I don't know. I can handle it. Not everyone gets mean when they're drunk, and Dick's never been anything but nice to me. Even if he does get mean, he can't really do anything in public.

Probably.

Dick's smile is blindingly bright, and his grip around my shoulders is tighter than I'd like, but his attention is turning back to the women around us. They're infatuated with him, it's easy to see, and it's also easy to see that he likes the attention. He's throwing flirtatious comments around like they're nothing, smiling and laughing at every even slightly funny comment made back at him. It's honestly difficult to watch, and I _don't_ like it. I'm just not sure how much is the alcohol, or how much of it might be that I don't really know Dick, not when he's around other people anyway. Is this normal, or is it compensating?

Dick's still having problems with Bruce, so maybe this is just a way for him to cut loose? You're pretty much allowed to do whatever you want on your birthday, or at least you should be. Maybe he's letting go while no one can judge him for it.

I last about until Dick's drink is finished, and one of the women offers to grab him another. He agrees, but then he's looking down at me and adding on, "And grab something for Jason too!" I freeze up for a second, as he smiles down at me. "Share a drink with me, Jay?"

I force myself to breathe, to smile back and then pull a little bit away. "I'll go pick something out," I lie through my teeth, ducking out from underneath his arm. He doesn't stop me, but I don't know if that's because he's accepting my lie or because the alcohol has slowed him down too much.

Either way I don't press my luck. I'm small enough that getting out of the crowd isn't that hard, but it puts me a lot closer to a lot of people than I wanted to be. I almost don't dare to breathe again until I'm in a clearer area, and the stench of perfume doesn't stick in my nose every time I even think of inhaling. I do head towards the other side of the room, but for the food, not the drinks. I had a few tastes of alcohol while I was in Crime Alley, and it's not my thing. Not here, anyway. Too dangerous to not be in control of myself.

I get to the buffet table, and I get about two seconds of relative peace before there's a woman appearing at my right and looking at _me_ , not the food. She smiles, and there's an edge to it that feels dangerous. She's younger, maybe early twenties, but the way those brown eyes are looking at me is a bit like Selina looks at expensive things with no real security.

"It's Jason _Kyle_ , right?" she says, turning to face me. I really _don't_ miss that emphasis on my new last name.

"Oh, Melissa," breaks in a different female voice, and I can't help my jerk when a hand touches my shoulder and squeezes _hard_ for a second. I pull sharply away, whirling. It's an older woman — maybe forty-five or so — but she's got that same edged smile that the younger woman does. "The boy's just looking to get a bite of food; let him. We all know who he is."

I swallow, duck my head in something like a nod and try to slip around the older woman. But then her arm is in my way, and I have to snap myself back to avoid colliding with her as she reaches past me.

"Let _me_." That arm retracts with a plate in it, but before I can move away she's pressing it towards my chest, and I don't have much choice but to take it. "Jason," she starts, taking my shoulder again like we're old friends, "have you met my daughter, Melissa?"

"I have now," comes out of my mouth before I can think about it, as my fingers curl around the edges of the plate that's been shoved into my hands.

That gets a laugh out of them both, and I'm not blind to the way that they're moving to box me in against the buffet table but there's not much I can do about it without breaking cover either. Punching one of them or sliding underneath would probably not go over real well. I'm kind of painfully stuck here, and I _really_ don't like that grip on my shoulder but there's not much I can do about that either. What the fuck happened to common decency? You don't just grab someone you don't know, not for any _good_ reason anyway. You definitely don't _keep_ touching them.

The daughter smiles a little more intently at me, tilting her head a bit so the curtain of ash blonde hair falls to one side of her neck. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jay." I just stare at her for a second, that nickname sounding foreign and _wrong_ in her voice and raising all of my hackles.

But then the mother is letting go of my shoulder to ruffle my hair instead, with a comment of, "Oh, you don't have to be so _formal_ , 'Lissa." I duck away from her hand, but like some kind of strangling snake it's suddenly back on my shoulder and holding me still. "That's probably uncomfortable for little Jay; he's still _new_ , remember?"

 _No_. People I don't know are _not_ allowed to call me that. "It's _Jason_ ," I stress, holding myself perfectly still because I think I might chuck the plate in my hands at her if I try moving anything else. I swallow down the anger, and force myself to calmly, and _politely_ ask, "Would you please take your hand off me?"

The mother looks a little offended, but she does let go of me even if it's with a huff of breath I can only barely hear over the music. "Well, there's no need to be _rude_ , young man. I was _only_ trying to be friendly."

I wonder how much trouble I'd be in if I vaulted the buffet table to get away from these two.

"I _don't_ know you," I try, glancing sideways towards the daughter as well. "Either of you. Please don't touch me like that." Saying 'please' at all grates a bit, because I'm so used to solving the issue of making people I don't want touching me let go with punches, but I _have_ to at least try the diplomatic way first. I don't want to disappoint Selina, and these people aren't threats, they're just insistent and ignoring the concept of personal space. I don't like it, but it's not worth a punch.

"I'd _like_ to get to know you, Jay," the daughter says, stepping uncomfortably close to me with a smile that still only comes across as predatory to me. "Maybe we could sit and talk somewhere?"

Jesus; I'm _fourteen_.

And rich, is the next thought that clicks. She's after me because I've got money, and I'm probably the less competitive target in the room compared to Dick. A billionaire heir with only a year to go until he's legal is probably way more of a target than me, so this woman is just, what…? Getting a jumpstart on everyone else? It's fucking creepy, that's what it is, but it's also really telling.

Yeah, the two of them are being creeps, but it's _me_ they're after. I'm the unknown, and _I'm_ the target. I have the power. They don't know me, so I can choose to be anyone I want to be and they won't have any reason to doubt me. Oh, is _this_ what Selina's been talking about whenever she mentioned building a public persona? This total freedom to do pretty much whatever I want, and not have anyone think I'm being uncharacteristically rude because they don't _know_ me?

Well that puts a new spin on things, doesn't it?

I turn my head so I can lower the plate and set it down behind me, and then I meet the daughter's gaze head on as I relax. She smiles at me, and I push myself to give back what I hope is a smile with too much of a flash of teeth to be friendly. Judging by the way 'Melissa' looks suddenly a little unsure, I think I succeed. Still, she rallies after a second.

"Come on, Jay," she says, _just_ loud enough to be heard over the music. "Let's get out of this mess and go talk. I'm sure we have a _lot_ in common." She slips closer and reaches for my elbow, like she's going to steer me out of here.

I intercept her, raising my hand to brush hers aside and _not_ following it up with the painful twist of her wrist that springs to mind. I keep my smile, and clearly say, "It's _Jason_ , and I asked you not to touch me." She looks a little taken aback, and I sharpen my smile a little bit. _That_ I know how to do. "Sorry, but I'm a little picky about friends, and I think you're a little _old_ for me."

Oh, the way she gasps is just _music_ to my ears.

The mother — never did introduce herself, did she? — makes almost the same noise, though with a touch more outrage. "Young man, apologize to my daughter this _instant_."

Hah. I've stood toe to toe with Robin and _Batman_ , and that means that she can't intimidate me unless I let her. Now _there's_ a realization.

"Why?" I ask bluntly, adding just a touch of 'puzzled' to make it a real question. "I'm only fourteen; I think it's really important for me to have friends my own age, don't you? I was just saying that 'Lissa is really too old to be 'my own age.' " I turn my head towards the daughter, widening my eyes just a bit as I add, "I mean, _aren't_ you?"

 _I_ have the power. _This_ is what Dick's been throwing around since I met him; the wealth, the status, the knowledge that _you're_ the one that everyone wants. Even better for me, because I know Selina will back me up so long as I'm not _blatantly_ rude to anyone who doesn't deserve it.

"Your _mother_ will be hearing about your behavior, Jason," the older of the two threatens, and I let my smile fall away and my eyes narrow.

"Go ahead," I challenge. "You talk about my _behavior_ , and I'll talk about how you grabbed me before you even said hello, did it again even after I asked you not to, and _completely_ ignored me when I asked you to call me 'Jason' and not ' _Jay_.' I _was_ polite, _ma'am_. Now I'm irritated, so please _go away_. Is that clear enough?"

The mother puffs up even as the daughter shrinks down a bit, but neither of them say anything. The mother just steps to the side, takes her daughter by the arm, shoots me one last nasty look, and struts off.

I let loose a breath in relief, and almost take a step back before remembering that the buffet table is right behind me. I glance around instead, making sure no one else is coming up on me. They're not; I'm alone for right now.

Dick is still surrounded by his group, over there. He has another drink in his hand, from the flashes of him I'm catching, and he doesn't seem to really be noticing or caring that I haven't come back. He's caught up flirting and laughing again, and it's hard to even see him he's so surrounded. It's almost like Bruce, across the room, except that I can see Selina right next to him. She doesn't seem to be phased by the women around Bruce, I guess for her it's practice.

I don't think I can do this. Not… Not like _this_ , anyway. The gala was boring, but everything about this party makes me uncomfortable and I just don't like it.

I don't want to watch Dick flirt and be flirted with, I don't want to _be_ the target of some creepy-as-fuck women looking to wind me around their fingers, and I don't want to have to play nice with any of them. I showed up; that's good enough, right? No one's going to fault me for vanishing. No one I care about anyway.

So I take one more glance to make sure that Selina looks like she's having a good time — I catch her right in the middle of leaning in to speak in Bruce's ear, so that's a _yes_ — and then find the nearest exit and head for it. Not directly, I don't just make a beeline and get the hell out even though I really want to, but with a bit of curving instead. Like Selina's taught me about scoping security out when you're not in costume. Don't go straight for it, make it look like it was just an eventual destination by chance.

No one stops me, or even really seems to notice me beyond a couple glances when I come near, and I get out of the ballroom without so much as a word aimed towards me. I take a glance around the main entrance hall I'm back in, and all the doors. Most of them are closed, and the stairs don't really hold any appeal, so I stick to what I know. I head to the left of the stairs, slipping through the one door that's just slightly propped open and deeper into the manor.

I head back towards the library area that Dick usually takes me to, pausing for a moment in front of the door before I head into it. The fire's out this time, and none of the lights are on, but it's only a couple of seconds until my eyes adjust to the light of the moon from the windows against the opposite wall. I slip across the room, letting myself look at the two bottom shelves of games to my left, the couch and chairs around the empty fireplace, and then to the desk at the opposite side of the room.

I almost want to see what might be in that desk, but I hold back and just move to stand in front of one of the windows instead. There are lights on in the garden outside, and I can see a few people scattered around the hedges. I snort and roll my eyes as I pick out the fact that they're pretty much all in pairs, and close to each other. Well, no mystery as to what _they're_ doing.

I entertain myself by watching them for a few minutes, and then breathe out a sigh and turn around to head back to the rest of the manor. It doesn't feel right to be in here without Dick, and I know pretty much everything in this room anyway. It's tempting to just curl up with one of these books until the party ends, but not tempting enough. Not right now.

When I'm about halfway across the room I hear footsteps — two people, hurried pace — and then the laughter of a woman. I automatically duck down behind the end of the couch, drawing myself into enough of a ball that I'm not visible behind it. The knob turns and the door opens, and I flatten myself against the couch, wondering what other pair of stupid, drunk people has picked this room, of _all_ the rooms, as somewhere to mess around. And how likely is it that I can get out of here without them noticing?

There's another breathless laugh, and then the slight thud of an impact. I'd guess the wall, especially since I never heard the door close. I roll my eyes at the slight groan — still the woman; unless it's two women? — and what sounds like fairly heavy kissing.

I take a peek around the edge of the couch to check my chances of getting to that door, and I'm not even really looking at them but I still freeze up.

Black hair, skin that's a little darker than normal, and shorter than the woman by a few inches. One of her hands is tangled in his hair, and the other is clenched back between his shoulder blades. The red of her nails is washed out by the moonlight, but there's enough light spilling in from the open door to see it, like it makes the shade of his skin obvious next to hers.

That _can't_ be Dick, can it?

He pulls back a little bit, and she lets go as he takes a step back, his left hand catching hers as he tilts away and towards the rest of the room. I catch that too familiar easy smile curling his mouth, and the edge of distinctive bright blue eyes, and then I have to yank myself back behind the couch so that he doesn't see me. I draw in a shallow breath, my eyes wide and something in my stomach tightening unpleasantly.

It shouldn't surprise me. I _know_ it shouldn't. Dick might be only seventeen, but he's still old enough and he makes his own choices. I _shouldn't_ be surprised — or whatever the hell this pain is in my stomach — that he's sexual, and I was already half convinced that he was straight anyway. What more proof do I really need?

What does it _matter_ why he's off in his own house, fooling around with some woman? It could just be who he is, it could be birthday celebrations, or it could be that compensating thing and he's just trying to have what fun he can while Bruce can't stop him. It's not my business; Dick can mess around with whoever he wants, whenever he wants. He's just a _friend_ , and maybe I've got some stupid crush but that doesn't give me any claim to him. I _won't_ be that creepy stalker, or that jealous best friend. I won't do that.

I didn't need to see this, and _god_ I hope they don't stick around because I don't want to actually watch anything happen, but it's done now. I should just let go, shouldn't I?

If Dick's not straight then he does a damn good job pretending, and he's going to be legal in another year anyway to do whatever he wants. I'm too young for him, even if he had any interest.

God, _give it up_.

"Come on," Dick says, his voice a low, charming thing that I'm not sure I've ever heard from him. "It's cold and dark in here, let me take you upstairs."

"A real bed and everything?" The woman's voice is lowered too, heated like how I've heard Selina sound around Batman. "What a gentleman you are, Dick. Let me thank you _properly_."

I hear the door close, and for a second I think that they've actually stopped in here for something I definitely don't want to hear, but then there are the taps of footsteps against the wood floor of the corridor outside. I lean my head back against the couch, wrapping my arms around my stomach and trying to forget everything I just saw and heard. I almost wish that I was back to just wondering and waiting.

And I'm such an _idiot_ , because there's still a little spark in my chest that feels like hope. A tiny voice saying: but maybe Dick's _not_ straight. It's stupid, it's ridiculous, but I can't quite grind it out. Maybe tomorrow.

I push myself to my feet, heading for the door because suddenly I really _don't_ want to be in here. I peek out into the corridor before I head out, making sure no one is around. I consider both directions for a moment, and then I turn and head deeper into the manor and into areas I've never been. Pretty much all the doors are closed back here, and I can still very faintly hear the music from the actual party but it's barely enough to even remind me that it's happening.

I try a few doors, look into a few open rooms and find a few locked ones that I don't pick out of respect for Selina's sense of morals. Whatever secrets this house has, I'm not sure I want to know. Eventually I find one with light spilling out from inside it, and I open it and look in out of pure curiosity.

The empty rooms definitely made me complacent, because when I poke my head in and someone looks back at me I freeze in place, my tongue tied and any kind of words sticking in my throat. The man looking back at me is older, probably at least sixty, with one arched eyebrow and a suit on that looks distinctly waiter-ish. The effect is just slightly ruined by the apron he's got on over it, and the fact that his hands are stuck inside a bowl of something as he watches me.

"S-Sorry," I manage to stammer out, finally recognizing that this is a kitchen. I start to pull back, and the man makes a sound that sounds like reprimand. Whatever it was supposed to be, it stops me in my tracks.

"Come in, young man," he says, with a British accent that sounds just a bit imperious. Hesitantly, I obey. I slip into the room, and at another raise of that eyebrow I carefully shut the door behind me too. "You're young Mr. Kyle, yes?"

I wince, finding it a little hard to hold the other man's gaze. "It's just Jason." My voice comes out quieter than I'd like, but I do at least manage to keep my head raised and not duck it like I really want to.

Then he gives a small smile, and I can physically feel myself relax. "Well, you look absolutely miserable, Jason. Why don't you take a seat, I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me what brings you so deep into the manor. Does that sound good to you, sir?"

Hesitantly, I nod. The man tilts his head towards the chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table that he's at, and I slowly walk further in across the tile and take a seat in it. He gives me another small smile for that, and pulls his hands from the bowl — it looks like his hands are covered in flecks of flour — and crosses over to the sink to wash them. I clasp my hands in my lap, looking around the kitchen. It's very… neat. Everything looks like it's just where it needs to be, even the ingredients and mixing bowl that's over on the other side of the table are in neat, even lines.

"What are you making?" I ask, before it occurs to me that I'm still the uninvited stranger here. I wince, but he just smiles over his shoulder at me as he turns off the water in the sink and dries his hands.

"Pastries, for tomorrow morning." I watch him walk over to a stove and click on the fire underneath a kettle, before reaching up above it to some cupboards to pull down a plain black mug. "So, what drove you from the party, sir?" He looks over at me, and then adds on, "I do hope none of the other guests were engaging in any _uncouth_ behavior towards you."

My mouth twitches into a faint smile, and then I give a small shake of my head. "It wasn't that bad," is my not-an-answer.

"That is not technically a _no_ ," he points out, instantly, and it kind of shocks me into silence. I haven't had someone call me out like that… ever. Not ever. "I am well versed in technicalities, young sir. I do live in a house with a businessman and Master Dick, after all."

My stomach clenches again at the mention of Dick, and I drop my gaze down to my lap and my hands, trying not to clench them together any harder. What Dick does is _his_ business, I need to remember that. It's not my place to criticize what he chooses to do; I don't know the story and Dick might be shallow sometimes but he's not stupid. He wouldn't do something that was actually dangerous.

"Ah, I see." My gaze snaps back up towards the older man, and he's watching me with a mixture of sympathy and something that looks a little sad. "What did he do? If Master Dick has been unkind in any way—"

"No!" I rush to answer. "No, it was— It wasn't my business anyway, he doesn't even know that I saw." My breath catches a little bit, as my eyes widen. "Don't tell him. _Please_ don't tell him any of this."

I can only think about Dick finding out that I saw him and realizing that it actually hurt me. Realizing that I'm bisexual, and then what? I have no idea what he thinks about anyone who's not straight; it hasn't come up and I'm not crazy or brave enough to ask. For all I know it could disgust him, and I could either have to hide who I am from him or stop being his friend at all. Even if he's not prejudiced, what if he doesn't understand? What if he thinks I'm wrong, or that I'm terrible for crushing on him, or—?

"Of course not, sir," he says. "I always hold my private conversations in strictest confidence." He crosses back over to me, and I don't know precisely when it happened but somehow there's a cup of tea in his hands, still lightly steaming. He sets it down in front of me, and then sits down on the corner of the table as he looks down at me. "Why don't you tell me what happened, sir?"

"You don't have to call me that," I murmur, reaching for the cup.

"That's hot enough to burn your tongue," he says mildly, "and you're right, I don't have to call you 'sir.' I choose to." He reaches forward, and for some reason I don't stop him from brushing my bangs away from eyes, and I lean into his hand when his fingers lightly brush the strands back behind my ear.

It's nice.

"Who are you?" I ask, looking up at him as I let my hand come back down to my lap instead of grabbing the cup of tea.

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth," he says softly, his hand lowering back down and away from me. "I am Master Bruce's butler and have been since he was a small boy; I raised him after his parents passed. I run the house." He gives a small smile, and leans towards me just a bit, voice lowering as he says, like it's a confession, "And I keep both Master Bruce and Master Dick in line when they are too foolish to do it themselves."

I can't help smiling back, even if it's just a little bit. "So is it Alfred, or Mr. Pennyworth, or…?"

"You may call me what you wish, young sir, and _you_ are stalling to not have to answer my question."

I flush a bit in embarrassment, but cling to my question anyway. "I don't want to call you what _I_ want," I press, "I want to call you what you want to be called. Who's avoiding the question now?"

His mouth curls at one corner, and he gives a soft laugh. "That's a kind sentiment; Alfred will do just fine, sir. Now I believe you are the only one avoiding a question, aren't you?"

I lower my gaze back to my lap, my throat feeling tight. "I… The party's just not my idea of a good time. I was uncomfortable, so I went exploring. I didn't mean to intrude on anyone; sorry."

Alfred's quiet for a moment, and then he nudges the tea closer for me and softly says, "That is part of the truth, but not all of it. Whatever you tell me stays between us, sir; I would not betray your secrets to anyone else. Not even my employers." I raise my gaze again, and he's giving me a soft smile. "Why don't you start by telling me what made you uncomfortable?"

"They're stupid reasons," I try and brush off, and Alfred raises one of his eyebrows again.

"Nothing that makes you uncomfortable can be considered stupid, young sir. If you truly don't want to share, I will leave it be, but it seems to me that you might like the chance to share your concerns with someone other than your own mother." I startle a little bit, and his smile softens even further. "As comforting as paternal figures are, we don't always want to share everything with them, do we?"

I shake my head, and then blurt out, "I don't like crowds. I— Strangers. Crowds of strangers make me wary and uncomfortable, and—" My throat clenches for another second, and this time I duck my head again and lower my gaze to avoid Alfred's look. "The drinking makes it worse. When people drink they get violent, they get _mean_. I didn't want to be around when that happened. I didn't want—" I cut myself off before I admit that it was specific, that it was about _Dick_ drinking.

Another moment of silence, and then Alfred presses, "And the rest of it?"

"Does there have to be more?" I counter, raising my gaze. He meets it steadily.

"No, what you've given are perfectly valid reasons to leave the party itself. However," his lips curl in a slightly sad smile, "they do not explain why you look like you've just had your heart broken." I freeze, and he tilts his head a bit. "I imagine that has something to do with Master Dick, doesn't it?"

"You know?" I ask, my chest feeling tight with what I know has to be fear.

"I suspected," Alfred corrects. "It was not a jump to consider that the son might have the same leanings as the mother." He reaches out again, and I stay utterly still until his fingers push my bangs back again. "You really do need a haircut, young sir. Unless you plan on growing it long, anyway." His gaze meets mine again, and he gives a soft smile as he strokes his fingers back down behind my ear. I ease a little bit at his smile and his touch. "What a person desires is no one's business but their own, young sir. And no one can control who their heart chooses to want. It is not wrong, nor is it your fault. Sometimes our heart chooses someone who cannot choose us back, and it may be painful, but that's no one's fault either. Sometimes life is painful." His smile slips into something just a little bit more sad. "I imagine you know that already."

I give a small nod, and then let out a long breath. "Thanks," I murmur. "I— I'll head back to the party."

" _Nonsense_ ," he says, and I lock into stillness instead of standing up like I was definitely going to. "You'll stay here and drink your tea, and when your mother is ready to go she'll come and find you. You won't be forcing discomfort on yourself under _my_ watch, young sir. If anyone has anything negative to say about that, they can say it to me and I will quite politely tell them that they're ignorant fools."

I relax, and manage a small smile up at him. "Thank you," I repeat.

"You're welcome, sir." He stands up and off of the table, and then reaches forward and gives me a couple of soft pats to the top of my head. For once, I don't feel like I need to immediately pull away from them. "Drink the tea; it's quite good. You may ask me whatever questions you like, by the way. I have work to do, but none of it will require my full attention and I am perfectly capable of multitasking."

"I uh…" I work up the courage, and then meet his gaze and ask, "Will you narrate what you're doing?" I force myself to hold his look, even as I can feel my cheeks burning a bit out of embarrassment and I have to give a small shrug to vent some of that feeling. "I like to cook," is my pretty lame explanation.

Alfred's whole demeanor softens, and he gives a small laugh. "Of course, young sir. Why don't you pick the mug up and come stand by me so you can watch as well?"

I relax, smile, and do exactly that.


	11. The Fight or Flight Response

So I hope you guys are ready for some pain! Yeah. All the pain in this chapter, it's going to be bad. There's your fair warning. Also, I have been very unable to focus recently and not much is getting done, so I think I might slow updates down to twice a week again. Not official yet, but if I don't manage to write some things soon. There will be an update on my Tumblr if I do, plus I'll mention it on one of my notes here. (I hope you enjoy this chapter!)

 **Warnings** for this chapter: References to and discussion of abuse.

* * *

Selina's ahead of me again. She's running faster tonight, more like she knows I can keep up, which I can. Well, mostly anyway. Maybe it's just that we've run across most of Gotham already, or at least it feels like it, but I'm lagging a little bit behind. My breath is coming hard, and I'm still focused on her back but she's gaining on me a bit.

It was just a preparatory run across a private home across town. We're running the actual heist tomorrow night, but Selina wanted to double check the security in person before we go for it. This one's actually a job; whatever it is we're grabbing — papers of some kind — I don't think are worth much, but they must be worth something to the right people. I don't know what's on them, and neither does Selina. She didn't ask.

She hasn't introduced me to any of those contacts she has yet, but she's been running me through the procedure for jobs like this. Don't ask questions unless they offer the information, or you absolutely need to know. Chances are good they'll get upset if you keep prying for information that they don't want to give, and they might even withdraw the job.

Besides, most people are fairly decent and whatever that information is it probably isn't important enough to risk the job over. It's almost always possible to take a glance at the papers once we have them, just to be _sure_.

Selina jumps a gap two buildings ahead of me, and I slow down to catch my breath. We're just heading home, it's not like I don't know where we're going. Besides, I don't have anything on me, so even if Batman or Robin show up they can't do anything to me. It won't hurt to just stop and catch my breath for a minute or two before I try and catch up with her. At worst case, we've both still got the com earpieces in and she can call me through that.

I slow down and come to a halt, tilting my head back to drag in a deep breath that burns a little bit. I sink down to sit on the ledge of the building, stretching out my legs one by one and wincing a bit at the burn in my calves. Yeah, okay, maybe halfway across Gotham and back in one night at mostly a dead run, not to mention all the sitting and watching at the house itself, was pushing it a bit. Oh, I will be _so_ ready to just curl up into a ball and pass out when I get home again. It'll be great.

I watch Selina bounce across a few more buildings, apparently unaware that I'm not at her back, and give a quiet snort. She'll figure it out.

"What's _this?_ "

I startle, _almost_ fall off the edge of the building, and then whip around. The voice isn't one I recognize, it's high-pitched but male, and there's an edge to it that sounds like the man's about to break into laughter. Why that is becomes totally clear when I turn all the way around, and my eyes fall on the one thing on the rooftop that doesn't fit in with the rest.

He's tall, thin, with shocking green hair, white skin, and the reddest lips I've ever seen. Considering that includes a lot of high society women and actually a bunch of hookers too — they hung out on Crime Alley corners a lot, and some even had a dollar or two extra for a skinny begging kid — that's kind of impressive. Also scary as all fuck, but that's the mental more than the actual physical.

It's the _Joker_.

"One kitten, all alone on Gotham's rooftops?" He's not making any effort to get closer, but I shift back to my feet and put my claws out, just in case. Selina's warned me so many times about the Joker, and alright, Harley makes him sound a bit like a love-struck doofus but I know that isn't right. I've seen some of his broadcasts before, heard some of the terrible things that he's done.

"Catwoman's not far," I answer, even though I'm not sure I should. He doesn't look _that_ bad, I could probably take him. Thanks to Selina's training and Robin's tips I'm a lot better than I was, and he doesn't look like he's got any actual muscle under that coat. Tall and skinny doesn't mean strong, and I've got claws.

" _Truuueeee_ ," he says, drawing it out like it's some kind of big confession. "But she's not _here_ , is she, little kitten?"

He must have gotten that damn nickname from Harley.

"No," I admit, considering the jump ahead of me and if I can make it without a running start. Probably, yeah. I can get away if I need to; he's still about halfway across the rooftop, about twenty-five feet away. I can make one jump before he can close that distance.

"Well, then this is just the perfect time to get to know one another, isn't it?" His voice is bright, and then he tilts his head back and laughs. I didn't know someone could laugh that _loud_ , and it makes me cringe back a little bit. Partially at the volume, and partially because he just sounds so _insane_. Yeah, big newsflash there. The Joker's totally nuts; everyone knows that.

I don't offer any answer, but I do take a quick glance back along the rooftops to check if Selina is coming back, or if she's still visible. No to both those questions. When I look back I _swear_ Joker is a step closer, but there's no edge of movement to him and nothing to suggest he actually took that step. I must be imagining things; he's actually kind of _creepily_ still and unwaveringly staring at me.

"You're called 'Stray,' right, kitten? My Harley's pretty taken with you." His eyes widen, and he jerks into motion that's sudden and makes me flinch, his hands coming together to clasp together next to his head. "Oh, Mr. Jay!" he singsongs, voice rising into a creaking falsetto. "I met the _cutest_ little thing today! All black and such an _adorable_ little kitten; I want one!"

I stare at him, not sure if he wants some kind of answer or not but absolutely sure that I don't want to take my eyes off him. Even without Selina's warning sitting in the back of my head, he'd make me nervous. I don't like the way he moves — it's jagged and sudden; almost no muscle warning before it — or the way he talks, and he's just _staring_ at me with eyes that are almost as bright as his hair. Emerald and sharp enough to slice.

His hands drop back down, and he rocks onto his toes and then back, flinging his coat back as he shoves his hands into his pockets. That makes me even a little more nervous; who _knows_ what he's got in there? His grin somehow curves wider.

"What's the matter, kitty? Big momma cat take your tongue or you just too shy to say hello?" His eyes narrow, his grin gets _bigger_ — how the _fuck?_ — and his weight shifts forwards onto his toes again. "You know, that's _rude_."

I swallow, shifting back half a step and considering that jump again. Then the moment's gone, just like that, and the Joker is laughing again. I stare at him, and his hands come out of his pockets and wave like he's brushing a question off.

"It's a _joke_ , kitty," he says, and I don't know if it's my imagination but that grin looks sharper than it did before, and there's an undertone to his voice and his posture that feels like danger even though he's laughing. "You can take a joke better than your momma cat, can't you?" he asks through the laughter, and I part my mouth to answer and then click it closed again.

I don't know what to _do_. I can't read him, I don't understand him, and I've got this sneaking suspicion that if I say the wrong thing he's going to do something violent and painful.

Joker jerks a step forward, I almost jerk back before remembering the ledge, and then there's a shout from behind me.

" _Stray!_ "

I _don't_ turn around, but I really want to. That's Selina's voice, and she sounds angry but she also sounds worried, and I _really_ want her in between me and Joker right now. I don't know how to deal with him and I want her by my side.

Which she is a second later, her feet skidding on the gravel as she lands the jump from the next building and then smoothly steps in front of me and blocks off my view of the Joker. The breath I didn't know I was holding rushes out of me, and I shift just a bit more behind her so I can't even see the edges of the Joker's coat past her frame. That's about when I realize that my hands are shaking a little. Not that much, but enough to make me notice it. I deactivate my claws, swallow again, and take a deep breath where I'm safe behind Selina.

I can feel my heart pounding now that I'm not so totally focused on the Joker, and yeah, I'm scared. Not terrified, but Selina's always warned me about the Joker and I still didn't understand quite how disturbing he is. He didn't even do anything; he just _talked_ and stared. It's just that everything about him makes me nervous, and I started this out looking at just his physicality but it's so much more than that. He wouldn't be the Bat's biggest enemy if he wasn't a huge threat, right? Batman is _so_ not a pushover; Joker must be one hell of a lot more dangerous than he just looks at a first glance if he can stand up to Batman and not just get absolutely destroyed.

Or maybe it's just that he's so unpredictable. I mean, it's a lot harder to stop someone when you can't predict what they're going to do, right?

"Joker," Selina says, sounding just a little out of breath. Her tone is hard and unfriendly though, and I shiver a little bit because it's not something I've ever really heard from her before.

"Well _hello_ , kitty-cat," Joker says, and his voice sounds like a purr but it's _not right_. Selina's purr is a happy cat, a trusting one. Joker's purr is the scared cat, or the hurt one. It just sounds _wrong_. I risk a glance underneath Selina's arm and towards the Joker, and I catch a flash of green eyes looking _right_ at me before I yank back. "What _are_ you two doing in this neighborhood?"

"Just passing through," is Selina's immediate answer. "I didn't know you were out of Arkham."

"What can I say?" It almost sounds like a joke, at least until his voice darkens and he finishes with, "Can't stop the _show_. Batsy and I got people to entertain; you know how we've got that _special_ relationship of ours."

I can see Selina's hands flex a bit, which I know as a sign of her wanting to hurt whoever she's talking to, but she steps back instead and turns towards me. Her hand touches my shoulder, pushing me back a little bit even while she continues to watch the Joker. I get the message, but it takes me a second to actually force myself to move because he's _watching_ me again. Then I stutter into action, and turn myself around so I can brace for half a second before leaping across the gap between the buildings. It's a little risky with no buildup, but it's a narrow gap so I make it. I turn back the second I've landed, crouching low to provide a smaller target — just in case — and watching to make sure Selina gets over alright.

"Enjoy it," she almost snaps at him, and then she's following me. She makes the jump a lot easier than I do, and I straighten up next to her. She gives one last nod towards Joker and then presses her hand to the center of my back and steers me away.

It stays there as we pick up the pace, the Joker's laughter chasing us, right up until that next jump. Selina lags back a bit so I make the jump first, and then she's pushing me again, pushing me to go _faster_. I do it.

She stays right at my side the whole time, matching her speed to mine and even slipping back every once in awhile. She's silent too, even through the climb back up to our home. It makes me a little nervous, but I match the silence because I don't know what I'd say even if I had the breath to really speak. I get up to the balcony and inside the house, keying in the alarm code next to the door to keep it from going off as Selina sweeps past me.

I watch as she strips off her gloves, her movements sharp and final as she throws them down onto the couch. Her weapons and tools go next, and finally she tugs her mask back to her neck and then turns to me. Without the mask hiding it it's obvious that she's angry, and I swallow even before she heads for me.

I flinch when she grabs me by my upper arms, fingers digging in through the suit as she shakes me once, _hard_. "What were you _thinking?!_ " she hisses.

I cringe back, but the grip on my arms is hard and she won't let me go anywhere. "Selina, I—"

She cuts me off with, "Jason, I have _warned_ you! I told you to _never_ talk to the Joker on your own!" Her voice is rising, and my breath catches in my throat because this is too familiar even if she's never touched me like this before. "He's _dangerous_ , Jason!"

"I get it," I try, keeping my voice quiet and placating. That's what works; sometimes. "Selina, I understand."

"No you _don't!_ " Her voice rises all the way to a shout as she shakes me again, jerking me forward and back a step and unbalancing me. " _Never!_ You _never_ speak to the Joker! I told you not to, Jason!" I grit my teeth together, expecting the grip on my arms to tighten to bruising, to be shaken again until my neck hurts. " _Damnit_ , Jason, you could have been hurt! He could have killed you! Why don't you understand _never?!_ "

She pushes me back instead, lets go of my arms and whirls around until her back is facing me. Her arms rise, hands combing back through her hair. I draw in on myself, ducking my head and trying not to think the worst of this. Selina's _never_ hurt me, not outside of training. She's never shouted at me, never shaken me. I've _fucked_ up, that's obvious enough. She's really furious with me, and god it scares me so much more than the Joker did. Pacifying didn't work, and I can't hit her back if she goes after me.

That only leaves my third option. Running.

If you can't talk someone down, and you can't hit them back, then you run. Sometimes when you leave they forget that they were angry. Not often, and sometimes it makes it _worse_ , but every once in awhile running away will get you out of someone's sight and then out of their mind, and when you come back they'll just punish you for running away. Usually a few hits for running is better than taking it when they're furious. Sometimes they don't even remember that they were going to hurt you, if they were fucked up enough.

" _Damnit!_ " Selina says again, _just_ below a shout. I flinch, and before I can think about it I'm moving. I back out of the still open door, finding my grapnel and getting to the edge of the balcony before Selina hears me and turns. "Jason, no! _Don't!_ " I jump over the edge, firing the hook and letting myself drop. I can't help looking up though, and Selina is at the edge of the balcony staring down at me. " _Jason!_ "

My stomach clenches in time with my heart, and I choke back any kind of answer as the wire catches me and I swing with it. It feels almost automatic to get down the rest of the way and to the next building, and then to run and just _keep_ running. My calves burn, my breath comes hard in my chest, and my eyes sting, but I keep moving.

Gotham is never quiet, but there's no one else up on the rooftops and no one calls to me. Maybe it's because I'm fast, maybe no one sees me, or maybe they just recognize the look of someone running the hell away from something scary. I make sure that Selina won't catch me, taking some of the most jagged, illogical directions I can think of. I avoid the direction that had the Joker, but everything else is game. I stay away from the crowded streets, head the opposite direction from any particularly loud sounds, and just _keep moving_.

She was partially out of her costume; I had a head start to begin with. If she's chasing me, I probably got away. Probably. I'm not sure that's what I actually wanted, but I know it's for the best.

She's furious, and I don't know what she'll do. I don't know if I can handle Selina hitting me like… I don't think I can take that.

I keep going until I can't anymore, and one of my leg buckles underneath me. I hit the ground hard, momentum sending me skidding across the gravel covered rooftop. The suit protects me, but I can just barely feel the sharp dig of it and it makes me shiver. I push myself back up to my knees, take a look around, and realize I actually don't know where I am. It looks like a business district, but I don't recognize the specific streets and I don't know which direction Selina's home is. I swallow back the lump in my throat, sliding my arms around my chest and gripping tight for a second.

Then I push myself across the rooftop, over in the corner between what I think is a box controlling part of the ventilation system and the concrete of a square with a door that has to be an entrance to stairs. I push myself into the corner of the metal and the concrete, wrapping my arms around my knees and getting as small as possible. I keep my eyes up though, watching over my knees, just in case.

My cheeks are wet, my breath is coming in hard gasps, and I _hurt_ from how hard I pushed myself. I can feel myself shaking, and I choke out a small sob but then swallow the next one away. No noise is better. It's harder to find someone that isn't making any noise. Get as small as possible, don't move, don't make a sound. That makes it hardest for anyone following you to find you. No matter how terrified you are, _don't make a sound_.

I cry as silently as I can, watching the rest of the rooftop through blurry vision and trying to calm down my heart and my breathing. I just need a minute, then I can move again. Keep going. Get as far away as possible and find somewhere safe to sleep for the night before I head back tomorrow. If I can go back tomorrow.

She was _so mad_.

What if that's it? What if I fucked up and blew my chance? Things have been so good these last months, she's been so kind and everything was just going so well. I guess I should have known it wouldn't last. She just needed something to remind her what I am, and _who_ I am. Just street trash, just another orphan of Crime Alley. Of course she was going to realize that eventually, and what if this was that moment? What if she remembered where she found me, and she's going to throw me back?

How can I go back and face that?

I bury my face in my knees, giving up any pretense of watching the rooftop and just crying. I shake, press myself harder against the concrete wall and try not to notice how cold it is now that the heat from my running is leaching back out. The suit's good enough to protect me; guess I'll lose that too.

How do I give all this up? _How?_ Will it help if I just stay away from Selina for a day? A week? A month? Will she not be so angry with me if I just stay out of her way instead? How do I tell? I don't have any reference for Selina when she's this mad. I don't know how she'll react to anything, and that's not just scary as hell, it's dangerous. _She's_ dangerous, and I knew that but not like this. I didn't think she was dangerous to _me_.

The idea that she might throw me out the second I see her again terrifies me. The thought that she might go after me instead, that she might hit and hurt me like… Like my dad. That hurts somewhere deep inside my chest and I don't have a name for that emotion. Selina is as good as my mother, and my first mother might have been an addict but she never hurt me. She loved me. I thought Selina loved me too, maybe not in the exact same way but I didn't think she'd hurt me either. I didn't think she'd ever shake me like she did earlier.

If she can do that, if she can shout at me, what else could happen? It's terrifying not to know.

I cry until I run out of tears, and I just press myself into the concrete wall and try not to move or breathe. I'm not totally sure I want to exist in the world right now. If I just never get up, or at least don't get up until the sun rises, that's like not existing, right? I can just stay here until I become part of the rooftop, and no one can ever hurt me again.

I shiver again, more from the cold than anything else this time, and then I hear the crunch of a footstep against gravel. At the same time, a voice speaks that's low and familiar.

"Stray?" Robin asks, and I snap my head up. He's standing about seven feet away, and he looks worried. "Stray, what are you doing here?"

All I can manage is a shake of my head, and I cling to my knees a little tighter. I hide my face against them, not wanting Robin to see what has to be obvious. That I'm in pain, that I'm scared, that I broke down and I'm not sure I ever put myself back together. I hear another footstep and cringe into myself, drawing as tight and as small as I can.

I catch a flash of red and green out of the corner of my vision, what tiny bit past my knees I can see. "Hey," Robin murmurs. "Are you okay, Stray?" I manage a small shake of my head, and I get the impression that he's crouching in front of me. "Is it alright if I touch you?" is the next question.

I hesitate, consider the idea of just wanting to be left alone versus the fact that I know I trust Robin, and then finally give a small nod. I feel Robin's hand on my right arm, and then he's pressing up against my side, sitting next to me against the wall. I lift my head just a little bit, enough to watch him touch my closer arm with his gloved hand, and to see the goosebumps along the bare portion of his arm from the cold. I don't look up far enough to see his face though, I'm not sure I want to know what he's thinking.

"Batman got a call from Catwoman," he says softly, and I flinch. "She couldn't find you; she's worried. We said we'd look."

"Don't call her," I plead, not raising my head and forcing away a shiver. My voice comes out rough and weak, and I can feel Robin lean into me a little bit.

"I won't," he promises. "I'd like to take you back to her though, whenever you're ready. Gotham's not safe for people on their own, not right now. You're trained but that doesn't make it much safer; you should be inside and safe tonight."

"You're alone," I point out, turning my head a little bit.

Robin gives a very quiet laugh, and his hand gently squeezes my arm. "I've been doing this about seven years, kid. I can handle myself, and I know how to run from what I can't handle. Trust me, if you hadn't been missing I would have been right next to Batman the whole time tonight. There are dangerous people out there; he didn't want to split up but Catwoman convinced him to so we could find you."

I shiver, and Robin lets go of my arm and raises his. I almost don't believe it when his arm hooks over my shoulders, holding me close against his side, his hand lightly gripping my knee on the opposite side. I lean into him, letting my grip loosen a little bit.

"Are you still fighting with Batman?" I ask, suddenly _wanting_ to know if he understands what this feels like. I can feel him flinch.

"What?" He sounds surprised, and then he gives a bark of laughter. "Stray, no, we aren't fighting. Batman and I are totally seamless, kid."

"You were fighting," I insist, without any real strength behind it. "Not obvious, but you were. Little things. Are you still?"

Robin's still for a long moment, and then he quietly admits, "Yeah. It's…" He sighs, raises his other arm and I tilt my gaze up to watch him run it back through his hair. "It's complicated, Stray. We're partners, that comes before anything personal. The job comes first; if we get distracted because we can't work together people could die. That's not something either of us could live with."

I shift, ducking my head away again. "Has he ever… Has he ever threatened to kick you out?"

Robin goes still again, and then gives a second sigh. "Not exactly, no." His arm tightens around my shoulders. "What happened, Stray? Catwoman would never throw you out, you know that right? She loves you, she _adopted_ you, she's worried sick right now because she can't find you. You're safe, kid."

I shiver, and then manage to get out, "She's _so mad_ though."

Robin is quiet for a second, and then I flinch as his hand rises and tugs my hood back and away from my head. "Hey, how's this? I've known Catwoman a lot longer than you have. How about you tell me exactly what happened tonight, and I'll tell you whether you're right to be worried. I promise, I'll be totally honest. If she really is that angry with you, and you really did mess up, I'll make sure you've got somewhere to stay for tonight while I talk her down. Is that alright, Stray?"

I tilt my head to look up at him, trying to find any kind of deceit in his face. I can't. "Really?" I ask, small and worried and a hundred other things I can't fully name.

He gives a small smile. "Really. Go ahead and tell me."

I watch him for another second, and then turn my head back down towards my knees. I don't reach for my hood though; I leave it back. "I… The Joker's out of Arkham," I see him nod; of course he would know, "and we were out casi— Out. I was behind her, and I stopped to catch my breath. He came out of nowhere, just started talking to me. I was just frozen; I didn't want to turn my back on him but the only way out was to jump the gap to get to the next building. I should have run, I should have…" I drop my head down further, hiding it in my knees. "She warned me _so_ many times about the Joker, I should have remembered and just _gone_ the second I saw him."

Robin shifts, pulls me tighter against him for a second. "Did he hurt you? Her?" I shake my head, and I feel him relax a little bit. "Go on. What happened next?"

"She came back, they said a few things, and she made me jump the gap. We left." I take in a shaky breath, clenching my arms around my knees. "She was _so angry_. She shouted at me, shook me, I thought she might… I thought…" I close my eyes and give in to the urge to shiver. "I ran. She was already out of costume, couldn't follow me." I swallow, and tilt my head just enough that I can open my eyes again and see Robin's face. His mouth's in a line, but he doesn't look angry, just a little sad. "What if I messed this all up?" I ask, fearing the answer.

Robin sighs, and then he shifts a little bit, onto his knees, and holds his other arm out towards me. "Come here, kid."

I hesitate, and then all the insecurity and fear in my chest drives me forward. Honestly, I probably slam into him harder than I should, given his little shoved exhale of breath as I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my head against his chest. His arms wrap around my back, and he's strong but not really holding me against him and trapping me. It's warm, and I find my eyes burning again but try and swallow it back. Robin's already seen me afraid, he doesn't need to see me cry too.

"You're going to be fine, Stray," Robin murmurs, one of his hands stroking up the center of my back hard enough that I can feel it. "She's not really mad at you, I promise. She was scared that you could have been hurt; Joker's pretty unpredictable and if he decided he didn't like how you looked he might have just straight out shot you. She'd never hurt you, kid, and it's not nearly as bad as you think it is. I know it feels like everything's ruined, but when you go back all she's going to do is hug you as tight as she can and apologize. That's it. She didn't really mean to scare you."

I tighten my grip on him, swallow again to keep the tears at bay, and ask, "Are you sure?" It might be muffled against his chest, but he seems to understand me.

"I'm sure," he answers, and then gives a soft laugh. "A little shouting isn't the end of the world, Stray. Batman shouts at me all the time." I pull back enough that I can see him, which I don't think he was expecting because there's the edge of an expression on his face that looks a little bit bitter. It almost instantly fades into a smile though. "It sucks, but Catwoman's a lot quicker to forgive than B. You'll apologize, make up, and be fine by tomorrow."

I feel like I already know the answer, but I still have to voice the question in my head. "Do you?"

He's still for a second, and then he raises one shoulder in a shrug. "Sometimes. Depends what the shouting was about. The point is that Selina loves you, Stray, and you've got nothing to be scared of. Not from her."

I lean back into him, tucking my head down beneath his chin. "How do you deal with it?"

I can feel him take in a deep breath, and then give a soft laugh. "I shout back, but that's just how we fight. It's not you and her, kid. She was scared and lashed out, that's all. She never meant to hurt you." He squeezes me tight for a moment, and I can feel his chin press down on the top of my head as he leans into me as well. "Whenever you're ready to go home, you just let me know, kid."

I shift a bit, and it _can't_ be my imagination that Robin seems to be even more invested in this hug than I am. His arms are tighter, and I can feel him relaxing bit by bit with every second, his breathing steady and even underneath my head. It's partly that sense that makes me not want to pull out of the hug, and partly because it still hurts, and no matter his reassurances I'm still scared to go back. I think I might be alright now, I'm not terrified the way I was, but I'm still worried.

"Can that be a while?" I ask.

Robin gives another soft laugh, and then I feel him nod. "You let me move to something a little more comfortable, and it can be as long as you want, Stray. I gotta be home by dawn, but that's still a ways off. Just, you know, don't fall asleep on me."

I reluctantly let go of him, and without words he slides to sit down properly, and then tugs me back in against his chest. I end up half in his lap, my legs to one side and his arms wrapped around me again. It's nice, and yeah, I can feel him easing into it too. I wrap my arms loosely around his torso, my hands hanging down near his low back.

"I…" I swallow, and then press my head into his chest and force myself to finish. "I don't know what's going on with you and Batman, but it kinda feels like this is for you too. And that's alright."

I can feel his head tilt back, and then his arms tighten and his head presses down against my hair. I can feel his breath against my scalp. "Thanks, kid."

I squeeze him back. "You too."

* * *

I pace back and forth across my living room floor, my hands clenched to fists but bare. I don't want to be in costume for this, I don't want to be a threat.

Robin — Dick — was the first one to find Jason, and he called me to tell me that he was on the way to drop my son off. I got back as fast as I could from my own search, and it looks like I beat them here. That makes sense. Jason was already tired from tonight _before_ he ran off, and depending on how far he ran he probably isn't moving that fast. Plus I don't know how far he got. For all I know he could have gotten all the way out of the city; I was _terrified_ that he wasn't going to come back.

I've never shouted at Jason before tonight. Never touched him with even the _slightest_ violence outside of training him. If I'd known that he would freak out like this, I would have been so much more careful to never do it at all. I wanted to scare him a little bit, to make sure that he _knew_ how dangerous Joker is, but never that badly. I didn't mean to make him run, or make him think that I wasn't safe. That this place wasn't _home_ to him. I never meant to make him think that I was dangerous, or _anything_ like what I suspect his parents were.

Thank god Robin found him.

I force myself to stop moving, to pause and just breathe for a moment. I tilt my head back to fix my eyes on the ceiling for a moment, forcing my hands to loosen and my shoulders to relax. It's alright, Jason's on his way back to me. Just a few minutes and he'll be back in my arms, and I can say sorry until he believes me.

I force myself to lean against the back of the couch and stop moving, breathing evenly and counting the beats to control myself. I've built my life around being able to be patient, I can manage it for just a few minutes while I wait for Jason to be returned to me, I know I can.

It feels like way too long before there's a flicker of movement on the balcony. A small black shadow drops over the railing, and then a bigger flash of red, green, and yellow follows. I want to run forward, burst through the door, gather Jason up in my arms and never let him leave, but I clench my hands on the couch and force myself to stay still. Let him take the last few steps on his own. I have to let him do that.

I catch the flash of skin as Jason looks up at me, and then Robin straightens up and Jason hastily does too. Robin's hand settles on my son's shoulder, and Jason looks up at him. I can't read lips like Bruce can, but Robin says something with a small smile, and Jason hesitates but then nods. I give a soft gasp when Jason jerks forward, wrapping his arms around Robin's chest and clinging to him in a tight hug. Robin startles a little bit, glances towards me, but then leans down and returns it. My mouth curls into a soft smile.

However I might disapprove of Dick leading a double life in friendship with Jason — that will hurt Jason one day, I _know_ it will — I can't deny that Dick's been good for him. I'm not blind to Jason's crushes, and while I could live without that particular aspect of their relationship, I know that apart from that Dick's been a good friend to him. He's protected him.

I also know that Bruce is _much_ more disapproving of their friendship than I am, and that it's causing some serious tension between him and Dick. The fact that Dick is apparently willing to stand in defense of that friendship, even in the face of Bruce's anger, has endeared him to me somewhat. Jason deserves a loyal friend and, his faults aside, Dick is certainly loyal. If he wasn't he would have split from Bruce a long time ago.

Dick and Jason separate, and he squeezes my son's shoulder for a moment before nudging him towards me. Jason hesitates again, but then nods and turns to head for me. He's slow and cautious, but the moment that Jason's slipped through the balcony door and closed it behind him I stop holding back.

I rush for him, and it _kills_ me that he flinches back but I don't let that stop me. I hit my knees in front of him and gather him into my arms, all but crushing him to my chest. " _Jason_ ," I breathe, burying my head in against his hair and taking a deep breath just to get the smell of him, to really cement in my head that this is my son, and he's home.

He shivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut just after I catch the edge of a yellow cape vanishing back over the side of the balcony. "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I'm _so_ sorry, Jason. I didn't mean to scare you like that, I swear. I shouldn't have touched you, I shouldn't have shouted, I'm sorry."

Jason shivers again and then he's melting into me, arms circling my waist and holding tight, his face against my neck. "I'm sorry, Selina," he whispers back. "I should have run from Joker, I know. I just, I didn't think that he looked that bad at first, and then I panicked when he started talking, and the drop was at my back, and I—"

"It's alright," I promise, cutting him off. "It's not that bad, sweetheart, it's okay. I'm not angry, I swear. I just— Joker doesn't like me very much, and he might have gone after you to hurt me because he knows you're important to me. I was scared, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm so sorry, Jason."

Jason leans into me, his hands clenching in the fabric of my shirt, and I can feel him shake a bit as he takes in a deeper breath. "Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice is weak and scared. "Can I stay?"

"Of _course_ you can," I try and confirm, speaking past the pain in my heart that he even has to ask. That _I_ made him have to ask. "We're okay, sweetheart. You're my kitten, remember? I'm _never_ letting you go; this is your home and it always will be. Just tell me next time you have to stop and catch your breath, alright? I don't want to leave you alone out there."

He nods, and then I feel him shudder, feel his breath catch. My heart clenches in time with that small gasp.

"Come on, sweetheart," I murmur. "Let's get you in something more comfortable, and we can watch a couple movies and sleep on the couch. Alright?" I raise my hand and tug back his hood, pulling it down to rest at the back of his neck before I thread my fingers through his hair. He leans into me and nods again.

Then he's shaking and I can hear the quiet hitch of breath, feel it when the wet warmth of tears soaks into the fabric at my shoulder. I cradle him against me as he cries, and then carefully shift to wind my arms around his back and underneath his knees, and pick him up with me as I stand. He's heavier now than he used to be, and it's not easy, but I manage it. His arms stay locked around me, and his head stays against my shoulder.

I carry him over to the couch and sit myself down with him on my lap, pulling him close to me and holding him there. "You're safe, kitten," I promise, closing my eyes and drawing my legs up to curl around him. "I'd never hurt you."


	12. Growing and Changing

Hello! So, first news first, I'm going to slow down updates to twice a week for right now, Fridays and Mondays. I think I'm finally getting back into a writing groove, at least a little, but it's going to take me some time to actually finish any chapters or stories. But I finally got all my notes in order and condensed my documents, so that helps too. XD As for this chapter itself, this is mostly Dick's PoV but the very first scene is Jason's. Hope you'll enjoy it!

 **Warnings** this chapter for: references to past child abuse.

* * *

I leap the gap between two buildings with a laugh, flying high with Selina at my heels and _loving_ it.

As of today I'm fifteen, I've been with Selina a whole _year_ , life is amazing and perfect and I don't know how it could get any better. There's the weight of tonight's take hanging at my hip and bouncing against my leg as I run; just a simple job to celebrate and let me be Stray for awhile. Selina let me do everything, only at my back for the two-person parts and to watch, and _god_ it felt good.

No Batman or Robin, and that makes it even better even though I'd love the chance to see Robin. He's been showing up more often lately, sometimes even just to run alongside me or play fight. Selina always gets this knowing smirk when he shows up without Batman at his side, but she hasn't said anything. I'm not totally sure what it is that she thinks she knows. I think I might actually call Robin a friend — except in front of Batman — but that's it. That's not some big shocker or anything.

We're at the end of the summer months, but I'm looking forward to school starting back up. I've hung out with Dick a lot in the meantime, learned the rules to a lot of games and even beat him at a fair amount of them. It's been a blast. The monthly poker night with Gotham's criminals has been great too, even if the Joker's been at a couple of them and he's amazingly disturbing even at the best of times.

Even my actual fights with Robin haven't been much but fun. So I end up nursing bruises and the occasional sprain, so what? It's not that bad, and I'm learning _so much_. I know a lot of his patterns now; I can't do much to stop them, but I know them. I can at least minimize how hard he hits me, and sometimes even dodge completely. It's when I start trying to hit back that I really get into trouble, but that's just going to take a lot of practice. I'm getting that practice.

I leap another gap, closing my eyes for just a fraction of a second in the middle of the jump before I curl to roll and dispel the extra momentum. It feels _amazing_. Selina darts past me, her longer legs eating up the distance, and smiles back at me as she jerks her head up and over at the tall rise of our building. We veer that direction, and she falls back to run right at my side. It feels like just a few moments before we're making that last jump to the building next to ours, the one we'll climb from, and she rolls to a stop just a second before I do.

"Race you to the top?" I aim at her, already reaching for the grapnel on the opposite side of my waist from the bag with what I stole earlier.

She smiles, starts to answer, and then someone deliberately clears their throat. I whip around, heartbeat spiking and my claws coming out as I sink to a slight crouch. My gaze hits red, green, and yellow, and I stall instead of springing. Robin smiles, and his right hand comes out from underneath his cape, behind his back, with a small wrapped up box, a dark green bow sitting on the top of it. That gets me to relax, and I straighten back up with a matching smile.

Selina leans in next to me, snagging the bag from my hip and then murmuring, "Have fun, kitten," into my ear. I turn my head to watch her walk across the rooftop and then start the climb up our building, the bag now attached to her hip instead. I let myself grin before I turn back to Robin.

He's walking closer, and he looks up at her and then just says, "I don't want to know what's in the bag, do I?"

"Nope!" I answer, and he shakes his head but he's still smiling.

"This is the only day you get away with that." He tosses me the present, and I deactivate my claws as I reach up to catch it. I half expect it to blow up in my hand, into smoke or something, but I catch it anyway.

I turn it in my hands, studying the wrap. It's a pretty small box, only about three or four inches each in a square, and the wrapping paper is definitely not professional. It's a little sloppy, and the bow is a bit crooked. I'm pretty sure he did this himself. I shake it — no sound — and then undo the bow and let it fall. I _could_ just tear the wrap with my fingers, but I decide to show off instead and activate my claws first. I slice the outside of it open, letting the shreds fall off the plain brown box before I put the claws away again. Robin snorts as I flip it open, and then I _stare_.

It's a… a squeaky mouse. Like, a pet store variety, catnip laced, tiny black fur mouse.

"Really?" is what comes out of my mouth, as I look up at him. I pluck the mouse out of the box, and when I squeeze it it gives a high-pitched squeak that sounds a bit like the screech of a wet shoe over a wood floor.

Robin's trying and failing not to smirk, and I really can't decide if this is lame, irritating, or kinda funny. Taking the cat thing a little far, isn't he? Though I guess Selina and I play it up pretty hard, so him making fun of it too isn't really that big a stretch. But just, a squeaky mouse? _Really?_ What's up with that? It's totally ridiculous and okay, yeah, maybe it is just a little irritating. I'm not saying I was expecting something actually _thoughtful_ from Robin, but maybe I was expecting something more than a two-buck mouse that's just making fun of who I am.

I squeeze it again, it gives another little shriek, and I can't stifle a snort. Alright, so it's funny too. It can be both, I guess?

"What's up with this?" I ask, tossing it into the air and then snatching it again before it falls. I let the box drop to the rooftop though, that's not important anymore.

"Just a thought. You know, after our last fight where I totally kicked your ass." Robin grins, shifting his weight forward onto his toes. "You could really use some practice pouncing, Stray."

I stare at him in disbelief for a second, and then I spit out a laugh and tuck the mouse away into my belt. "Oh yeah?" I jump at him, and the form's totally wrong and he's too prepared but this isn't a _fight_ so it doesn't matter.

Robin slides into motion like he was born to it, ducking out of the way as he spins to the side. By the time I'm turning to face him his hands are braced on the ground, and one of his legs is smacking into my ankles and sweeping them out from under me. I hit the ground hard on my back, and a second later he's leaning down over me. Still grinning.

"Yeah, you really could." Then his hand is snapping out, smacking the center of my chest with just enough pressure for me to feel it. "Tag," he whispers, and then just like that he's up on his feet and backing off a few steps as he laughs.

I just stare for a second, but then I flip myself to my feet and head for him. "Oh, you're _on_ , Robin!"

He shoots me a grin, a cocky salute, and then he's off and running. I give chase, even though I know there's no way I can catch him if he really doesn't want me to. He moves across the rooftops like he already knows every single step he has to take, and every single jump or flip is so perfect and graceful that the more impressive ones make my breath catch. What takes me three steps and a jump only takes him one handspring and a midair flip.

He's incredible.

He's also slowing down for me, which is pretty obvious but damn if I care. It lets me get close enough to dart ahead of him, cut him off with a skid of gravel or at least I _think_ I have. Then he's leaping into the air like gravity doesn't have any effect on him, one of his hands bracing against my shoulder as he flips over me. He laughs as he does it, and I think that's the only thing that gives me enough time to whip around and fling out a wild arm, just barely grazing the edges of his ribs with my fingers.

"You're it," I breathe with a grin, and then I take off.

I'm not sure I've ever run quite so fast in my life, and I pull out every inch of the skill that Selina's taught me to make my leaps and rolls as seamless and quick as possible. I'm pretty sure it only works for the few minutes that it does because Robin lets me go, but soon enough he's suddenly in front of me, and as I duck to try and get past his hand catches the edge of my hood and pulls it down and off of my head. Before I'm even far enough away to be out of range the fingers of his other hand flick the back of my neck as I hurtle past

He doesn't say anything, just takes off again, and I have to skid to a stop on the gravel of the rooftop and flail a bit to try and get going the other direction. I find him paused on the next building over, and he sticks his tongue out at me, gives a clear, ringing laugh as he tosses his head back and then darts off. At least the yellow cape makes him an easy target to follow.

I'm breathing hard the next time I manage to catch up to him, and I make a wild grab at his cape to try and pull him to a stop. It backfires _spectacularly_ , and a second later Robin's spun around and leaned back in the same motion, letting my momentum carry me over and past him as he leans backwards and underneath the arc of my hand. I catch the edge of his grin in the corner of my eye, but nothing in my actual hands. I skid to another halt, almost falling over, and then somehow he's in my face and his hands are closing around my arm, pulling me towards the ground.

It's hard to say whether I fall because he's good at this or because I'm just totally not expecting to be pulled down, but either way it happens. My side hits the ground, and he's pushing me down and circling his hands around my wrists, pinning them down to the ground. Instinct and training takes over before my brain can catch up, and I push up and twist myself at the same time. It's not a great escape, and I can tell just by the weight he's got on me that it probably wouldn't actually do anything in a real fight, but all the same suddenly Robin is on his back and I'm on top of him. I freeze for a second, staring down at him, and then almost triumphantly grab his wrists and shove them down against the gravel. I grin, he grins back, and then I'm laughing and so is he.

I sound a lot more breathless than he does, and he's relaxed and easy underneath me even though I'm holding him down. Not that I'm really holding him down. Sure I'm leaning my weight onto his wrists, and I'm straddling his waist, but that's not enough. I'm lighter than he is and he's strong, if he wanted to he could fling me right off of him. I could never pin Robin without actually getting him in some kind of a lock, one that didn't depend on me being stronger or heavy enough to actually stop him from fighting.

So I let his wrists go and just brace my hands against the ground instead, trying to calm myself down and get my breath back. The grin he's got aimed up at me is almost soft, and he leaves his wrists right where they were.

"Happy birthday," he murmurs, and then reaches up and taps over my heart with his right hand. "How's it feel?" is the question he asks.

My grin melts into a smile, and I just feel so _good_ I can't help saying it. "Amazing," I answer. "This is everything I ever wanted."

"Being fifteen?" The counter is instant, teasing, and I snort and swipe one of my hands at his head. He surges up against me, flips me onto _my_ back instead, and then we're grappling. Of course he's winning — he could have won in an instant if he wanted to — but it still feels good. Even when I end up flat on my back with my wrists pinned to either side of my head.

I take another second to catch my breath again, and then give a laugh and a grin. "It feels _good_. I've got— I've got everything I want." Almost everything, but then what's life without wanting something? Definitely not telling Robin that the one thing I really want, that I don't have, is _him_. Not going there tonight, not even while I feel like I'm on top of the world and nothing could go wrong. Some secrets I'll keep between Selina and me.

Robin smiles, and then lets go of me and sits up. Still pinning me just by the virtue of his weight over my hips, but not actively holding me down anymore. "Congratulations, kid," he says, and then laughs again. "Alright, so I don't approve of what you're _doing_ with your life, but still. You deserve it, Stray. I can say that much and be totally honest."

I snort. "Oh, relax your morals, Robin." It's just teasing. "I do good with what I make, or did you miss that part?"

"I noticed," he says quietly, and then swings one leg up and over to get off of me. I push myself up, turning towards him, as he shifts to sit cross legged on the ground. "You're a sweet kid, Stray."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "I don't think anyone's ever described me as _sweet_."

"Kind then," Robin says instantly, and then reaches out and hooks his arm around my shoulders, dragging me in against his side. I give a startled sound, but I don't really fight him. For one, I really like being under his arm and up against him.

"Or maybe I just care about the people that get overlooked," I counter, and Robin smiles again. Even softer.

"That's good enough for me."

I smile up at him, and he squeezes me into the half of a hug. I close my eyes and lean into it, letting myself slow down and finally get the last of my breath back. The night is warm, and even with the slight wind it isn't cool enough to really be chilly, but that definitely doesn't stop me from burrowing into Robin's side and enjoying the warmth that he's giving off. Besides, Robin always seems to get as much or more out of close contact than I do, so any guilt over basically using him without him knowing I can just let go of. Whatever's going on with him, Robin definitely enjoys a good hug.

Eventually he shifts, and I draw myself away and look up at him. He's smiling, and it looks like it's one of his real ones, not just the normal one that seems to be his default expression as Robin. I'm pretty sure that one's just part of the persona.

"So, how does hanging out for a few hours sound?"

I draw in a sharp breath, and then smile right back. "That sounds _great_."

He gives a small laugh, and then squeezes my shoulder. "I've got until dawn. What do you want to do, Stray?"

* * *

Things are really only getting worse. It feels like Bruce and I can barely even talk anymore without fighting, and he _won't stop_ treating me like I'm just some sidekick. I know I used to be, and maybe he just can't see that, but I'm not nine years old anymore. I'm _seventeen_ , and it's a little ridiculous to still be getting treated like I'm not anything but the junior member of the team. I'm his _partner_ , not his sidekick, and wasn't that always the point?

He always hated calling me his sidekick; he preferred protege and that was the _point_. The point was that I was supposed to be the next generation, training at his right hand and learning until I could be my own man and knew enough to really fight at his side. That time passed a _long_ time ago, so what the hell changed and why didn't I notice?

It's just _me_ , too. Selina treats Jason like a partner, even if he's clearly still learning and she's still his teacher. Bruce treats _Barbara_ like a real partner, most days. Some days he snaps at her, but she hasn't been doing this nearly as long as either of us so that makes sense. Yes, he still treats her like a soldier most of the time, but he doesn't treat her like he treats me and every time I see the difference I _hate_ it. Just because he can expect me to snap to and obey any order he gives in the field doesn't mean that I have to do the same out of costume, and it _damn_ well doesn't mean that he can ignore my advice, or my questions, or deliberately keep me out of the loop and only give me the bare bones of the facts.

It sounds childish — and I hate that even more — but it's not fair. I'm his _partner_.

What's the difference between me, Barbara, and Jason? What sets me apart that would justify treating me like a sidekick when they're partners? It can't be my attitude — Jason's sweet and likes to make bad puns — and it can't be my skill — both Barbara _and_ Jason are so far beneath my level it's ridiculous — so what's the difference? Why is it just _me?_

I lean my head back against the steel behind me, and then twist my head to look down into the rest of the cave. Bruce doesn't generally approve of me being up on the supports for the roof, but damn him anyway. They're stable, and I feel better up high. Up in the air is where I'm safest; almost no one can follow me up here and I'd never fall. Flying is in my blood.

He's gone anyway; out on patrol I assume since the car is gone too, but he didn't bother to tell me where he was going. If he's not going to cooperate with me why should I cooperate with him?

I let my gaze roam across the cave, and my gaze settles on the cases towards the back of it. Older versions of the Batman suit, and older versions of mine as well. I look at my costume for a few long moments, glance over at the newest suit — the Batgirl suit — and then at least one difference clicks in my head. Stray and Batgirl, they don't _look_ like sidekicks. Batgirl's symbol is different than Batman's, and it might be eye-catching but she's noticeably different than he is while sticking close to his scheme. Stray's costume isn't far from Selina's, but a little more noticeably armored and with that hood. Maybe part of the problem is the costume.

Mine doesn't look anything like Batman's, and Robin is _known_ as Batman's sidekick no matter how much I wish that weren't true. It might not be fair, but it's just a fact. Maybe I need to change up the costume, make it closer to his, or… No. I don't _want_ to be like him. But maybe being different will help. Maybe if I just change things up a bit; try some stuff out until I find a costume that feels better. Robin is… I hate that something from my past has been so badly corrupted, but it just has. I don't think I can be that person anymore, and maybe the time for being the eye-catching distraction has passed.

It's worth a try at least. _Anything_ is worth a try at this point.

I can redesign the costume; I made the first one after all. It'll take some work, because I _know_ that Bruce won't help me, but I can make it work. I know how Bruce gets the suits made, I know how it all works and I can put together my own suit. Something different, something to make it _mine_ again and not just a persona I put on for him. I guess that just leaves the actual designing to do.

This could take some work.

* * *

It doesn't really go well.

The first time I go out with a different costume I run into Jason, and when he sees me he just stares and then snorts. Between blows — he's getting better; I don't beat him quite as thoroughly these days — he asks me what I'm wearing, what's happening, and finally what the _hell_ I thought I was doing matching colors like that. I beat him pretty soundly, but that's probably helped by the fact that he keeps snickering every time he really looks at me.

The second time it's a chase across Gotham rooftops, and when I get him pinned down, but before Selina's looped around to save him, he gasps in a breath that turns into a laugh. Spitting his words through that laugh, he tells me that the matching red looks even dorkier than my original costume. His words, and they sting a little bit but I shake them off before I have to let him go; I usually can't go toe to toe with Selina, especially when she's protecting Jason.

Then it's a raised eyebrow, but he doesn't get the chance to talk to me that time.

Bruce never comments on the changes, but I can see his jaw get tighter every time and he gets even shorter with me than usual. Not that it's all that much change, really. We barely talk as it is, why would him being even _more_ disappointed and upset with me really matter? If he wants me to stop he's just going to have to open his damn mouth and tell me to. Or _ask_ ; wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?

The media is not so nice.

I'm used to them running all kinds of ridiculous stories about both me and Robin, and I'm used to them being alternately sickeningly nice or cruel depending on who's in charge of writing that day. But the headlines of, 'Robin Having Identity Crisis?!' and so on hurt a little more than they really should. They're not _wrong_ , exactly. That stings too, but it's not enough to stop me from continuing to work on the new versions of my costume. Not enough to stop me from chasing what I already know, which is that things are changing, and I can't go on being this version of myself.

Finally I end up alone in Gotham one night, with Bruce at the opposite end of the city. I'm mostly just wasting time; the night's slow and what I have been able to stop hasn't been much more than a couple muggings and one amateur drug dealer. Nothing to keep me invested.

I'm out of the areas where any real action happens anyway; Bruce is down towards the Crime Alley neighborhood, and I'm up closer to downtown and the skyscrapers. Not the prime place to be looking for minor crime, really, but that's alright. I'd rather be wasting my night up here than trying to get along with Bruce to bust whatever he's found down there.

I see the shape heading towards me from a ways away, heading towards the mid-range building I'm crouched on top of where I can watch some of the busier streets below. Black, small, and I watch it just long enough to confirm that it's Stray before I turn away again. I consider leaving before he can get up here — he'd never catch me — but ultimately decide that I have the energy to talk to Stray. It might even be a good thing.

Jason… Talking to Jason almost always makes me feel better, at least a little bit. Maybe it will do the trick this time too, even if he does just laugh at me again.

I don't turn to look at him again until he gets onto my rooftop, and he approaches me just a little cautiously. I shift to sit a little more comfortably on the ledge, and Jason sits down next to me. Not quite close enough to touch, but he's tilted towards me so that hood of his doesn't obscure any of his face, his legs dangling over the edge without the slightest trace of nervousness for the drop.

I flash him as much of a smile as I can manage; it's probably enough to keep him from thinking anything is too bad. "Selina not around?" I ask, twisting to glance back across the rest of this rooftop. There's no other movement.

"Nah," Jason answers easily. "She's got some kind of charity event that I _really_ didn't want to go to, so I said I'd scope out security for our next job." I shoot him a sharp glance, and he grins back at me. "Oh relax, Robin. Can't exactly stop me; I already did it."

I sigh. " _Stray_ …" I let the lecture die on my tongue, and just shake my head instead. "Nevermind. So what are you doing over here? Why didn't you head back home?"

"Well…" He draws the word out, then leans over and nudges my shoulder with his. I let it rock me to the side a bit. "We don't have whatever insane security systems you've got, but we've got some surveillance spread out over the city. I did go home, and then I saw you over here while I was keeping myself entertained." His legs kick out into thin air, and he gives me a small smirk. "Bat's not around either, huh?"

I shake my head again. "Just me."

There's silence for a moment, and then he lifts his hand and touches the outside of my leg. "So, what's up with this? I mean, you were kind of an eyesore to start with but from what I remember of the news you haven't changed your costume since you upgraded to pants." Another light shove of his shoulder to mine. "Nice choice there, by the way. Just the underwear might have looked weird by now."

I snort — can't help it — and then crack a grin. "You're an ass."

"You're a fashion disaster," he counters without even a beat of hesitation. Then he's echoing my snort and edging closer to me, pressing up against my arm. "Look, Robin, I know that we're technically enemies and all that, but uh…" His head dips a bit, hood obscuring his face. "Are you alright? Cause at first I thought this whole costume thing was just funny, but now I'm kinda worried. Are you okay? Really?"

He's looking up at me again, and I push away the seriousness of the question and nudge him back. "You've been reading too many tabloids," I joke. "Just trying something a little different; change is good and all that, right?"

"Your change looks like you threw together four costumes and didn't think about how they'd look together." His tone is back to teasing, and I can feel my jaw tighten a little bit as I try and push away the little pang of hurt at his words. "Maybe you should ask somebody else or something because _wow_ do you look bad right now; not as silly as that feather pattern from last time though. Unless you _meant_ to look like some kind of giant flightless bird in bright colors. Not judging; everybody's got their interests."

" _Alright_ ," I snap, pulling away from him and swinging my legs back over onto the rooftop so I can get up. "I _get_ it; I've got no sense of what looks good. Leave it alone." The anger's an ugly little ball in my chest, and I try and push it down but it doesn't want to go, doesn't want to be contained like I've been containing it for _months_.

I can hear him get to his feet before he starts to say, "Robin—"

I turn on him, unable to help the curl of my hands to fists or the twist of my mouth in a little sneer. " _Back_ off, Stray!" He looks taken aback, and I _try_ and stop myself but the gate's open and I can't totally cut off the hurt _anger_ in my throat or the venom in my voice. "I couldn't talk about this with you even if I wanted to, and I _don't_. We're not friends, kid. You're a criminal and a thief and if I could lock you in a prison I _would_ , so you keep your damn comments to yourself and _go home_ before I take you down to the police station myself."

Jason looks stricken, and slowly I realize what I've said. Just in time for the guilt to hit me as he takes half a step back, head twisting away from me and his arms wrapping around his own chest. All the body language of someone who's been hurt, and is doing a poor job of trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, my voice much quieter than it was. "I didn't mean that, Stray. I— It's not you I'm angry with, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you like that."

"I'm pretty sure you _did_ mean it," he counters, but he does look up at me.

"Some of it, but I still shouldn't have said it." I offer him my hand as a peace offering, along with what I can manage of a smile. It isn't much. "I really do like you, Stray, and the only reason I'd put you in a prison is to teach you that this life has _consequences_ , because I don't want you to figure that out at the hand of someone a lot nastier than me. I just—" I sigh, and let my hand lower when he doesn't make any move to take it. "No," I admit, "I'm not alright, but it's not something I can talk about with you. Even if it was, I prefer to deal with my problems on my own and I don't like being pressured into talking about them. I'm sorry I snapped at you; I don't take teasing well either and my temper's…" I give a small laugh, a crooked grin. "A little out of control these days. Sorry."

Jason hesitates another couple of seconds, and then shrugs. "It's fine," he mutters. "Taken worse; I'll live."

Which does _not_ make me feel better. Not even a little.

"No, Jason—" I cut myself off, make myself correct it as, " _Stray_. It's not fine, and I should know better. I didn't mean to snap at you like that." I brace my hands on my hips just so I have something to do with them, trying to figure out if the way Jason is looking at me is any less like I sucker punched him. Maybe a little bit.

I almost breathe a sigh of relief when his arms uncross from his chest, though his shoulders stay drawn down. He looks every inch the abused street kid I know he is — wary, ready to run, expecting to be hurt again — and it pains me to see it. I didn't know Jason when Selina first picked him up, but I've seen the category enough, and I remember how standoffish he was when I first met him. I didn't need the arrest record for his father or the coroner's report on his mother to paint the picture of his home life, and I hate that I've reduced him back down to that core.

"It's fine," he repeats. "Just finding the boundaries. I pushed too hard; I get it. I'll keep my mouth shut next time."

"Stray—"

"I'll head home," he interrupts, half turning away from me as he steps back. "It's late anyway."

He heads for the edge of the building and I chase him, my longer legs giving me the speed advantage as I reach out and catch his arm to stop him. "Stray, _wait_ , I—" He _yanks_ away from me, spinning to face me and almost leaping back a step. The expression on his face is somewhere between fear and anger, and it stuns me long enough that I almost don't notice that he's put his claws out as well. "I didn't mean to hurt you," I tell him softly, trying not to visibly react to his cornered aggression. "What's happened to you— Nevermind. I _do_ consider you a friend, Stray, and I'm sorry I said any of that. Will you let me follow you home, make sure you get there safely?"

The claws get put away again at least, even though it takes him about half a minute of silence before he eases a little bit out of looking like he's ready to run or shred me at a second's notice. But, "No," is his answer, and I get as far as opening my mouth to argue before he's continuing. "Look, I just… I get it, Robin, alright? I won't tease next time; won't laugh. My bad. I'm sure you've got important things to do that definitely _don't_ involve me so just… Go do them." He hesitates a second, and then adds, "Whatever's going on with you; good luck. I hope it gets better."

"Thanks," I manage.

Jason dips his head, and then turns and takes those last few steps to the edge of the building. I look away as he jumps over the ledge, resisting the urge to make sure that he catches himself right. Jason's got the experience now; he'll be fine.

* * *

"No." Jason's voice is just a bit disgusted, as he reaches out and smacks my hand away from the shirt I'm reaching for. "Oh my god, _no_. That is the kind of pattern that middle aged guys having midlife crises wear." He pushes me away from the rack, farther towards the back of the store.

"But it looked _fun_ ," I almost whine, but don't resist the shove of a hand at the back of my shoulder.

"Okay, but _fun_ and looking like someone vomited color on you is a different thing, Dick." I pout a bit — this is _not_ helping my self esteem any — and Jason grips my shoulder and pulls me to a halt in front of a completely different looking rack. "How about you just _look_ at the awful colors and don't touch, hm?"

I sigh, looking at the clothes around us as Jason rifles through the rack in front of us. "You know, I do manage to get dressed every morning all by myself, Jason. Promise."

"School uniforms don't count," he teases, flashing me a small grin. I manage a small one back, and apparently it's not convincing enough because Jason turns all the way around and steps closer to me. "Bad fight?" he asks. "You're a little darker than usual."

I force a small laugh. "Well, should fix that before the paparazzi find us, shouldn't I?" Jason doesn't look convinced this time either — probably a bad thing that he's figured out how to see past some of my fake smiles — and I take a glance around to make sure we're alone in this corner of the store before shrugging and offering a crooked smile. "It's par for the course; no worse than usual."

Jason gives a small wince at that. "So that why we're out here? Hiding out?"

No, we're here because one thing Jason said to me while we were both our alter egos stuck out to me. That I should ask someone else about the clothes. Jason always seems to look nice whenever he's at one of the public events with Selina, and he's not Alfred so there's a step up right there. I don't think Alfred really approves of this whole mess of a situation I've got going on, or his looks might just be because he doesn't like seeing Bruce and me fight. It's a toss up.

I'm sure Alfred could come up with something good, but I don't _want_ to ask him; I want to figure it out myself. Jason looks good enough most of the time, he doesn't know why I'm really asking, and he doesn't have that parental judgment thing going on. Plus, it doesn't look weird if I'm hanging out with a good friend in public, and a few shots from the paparazzi might be a good thing right now. Honestly, mostly I just wanted to make sure that Jason was alright after our rooftop meeting a couple weeks ago (couldn't move on his suggestion too fast; it would look weird).

He seems to have bounced back from what I said, though I guess I won't really know until I see him again as Robin. Hopefully with something on that he doesn't laugh at this time. Though if he's comfortable enough to laugh even after saying he wouldn't, I'll count that as a good thing. I can take a little pain to make sure that I don't accidentally scare Jason into thinking I could be an abuser too. I'm not sure if I could handle that without feeling like pretty much the worst piece of shit in the world.

"No," I answer belatedly. "I need an outfit for a date." Jason's eyes widen as I click my mouth shut, reaching up to cover it as I suck in a sharp breath. Oh, I did _not_ mean to say that. "Don't tell anyone," I almost beg. "This just started, it's a really bad time for anyone to know, and she's kind of over eighteen." Jason's mouth is curling into a wickedly amused smirk, and I drop my hand and wince as I roll my head back. "And her dad's the police chief."

Jason snorts out a laugh. " _Wow_ are you in trouble, Dickie. How old is she?"

I wince again, curl my shoulders down a bit, and whisper, "Twenty. Look, my dad doesn't know, _hers_ doesn't know, and if the tabloids found out it could be—"

"Bad," Jason finishes. "Alright, you got it. No problem, I won't say anything to anyone." He's still smirking, but at least he sounds honest. "So why do you need _new_ clothes, Dick? I mean, haven't you got like, at least two closets full or something?"

"Or something. I just uh… Well nothing was really—"

"You're _nervous_ ," Jason pinpoints, and I stall out. "Seriously, Dick. You are _so_ doomed. Really like this girl, huh?"

Despite the too-accurate guess, I still can't help but smile a little sheepishly. "Yeah. Her name's Barbara. She's…" _Batgirl_ , and freaking amazing. "She's really cool. I just want to impress her, you know?"

Jason's smirk softens just a little bit, and his gaze flicks to the floor for a fraction of a second before he answers, "Yeah, I know."

I honestly don't know if he's talking about Robin or _me_ , but it's gotta be one of the two. I'm not blind to Jason's minor obsession with me as Robin, though I think he did at least mostly get over the crush he had on me. I guess my continued efforts to shove the idea that I was straight into his face — including getting 'accidentally' seen with a woman at my birthday a while back — were successful, as much as it hurt to see. Alfred gave me a pretty pointed lecture after that on the appropriate uses of my time and how I should treat friends, and it never included Jason's name but I didn't need that to understand who he was talking about.

He pulls in a breath that's a bit deeper, and then he reaches over and pushes my shoulder with one hand. "Alright, you dork. You want to impress? Listen up." He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to the rack, and I let him. "First of all, no patterns. You're handsome enough, you don't need anything for people to look at but you. Go plain and form fitting."

"You pick these things up from Selina?" I tease, as he looks between me and the rack in front of us. It looks like it's just full of normal looking button down shirts in varying colors.

"Mostly, yeah." He grabs a couple shirts from the rack, turning to hold them up against my chest with slightly narrowed eyes. I stay still for him as he eyes me, making small thoughtful noises as he swaps shirts around. "Stay away from the brighter colors. Darker colors are mostly alright, but as a general rule for your eyes don't wear yellow or pink. You going to remember any of this?"

"Sure," I say with a grin, and he snorts. I _am_ listening, actually.

Jason rolls his eyes, and then apparently makes his mind up and snags a couple shirts from the rack. "Dark red, green, _rich_ orange, purple, and blue are your friends. You can wear lighter blue too, to match your eyes, and white or black should be good as well. Here." He shoves the armful of clothes at me with a smirk. "Changing rooms are over there; go try _one_ of these on and then open the door so I can tell you what I think, alright?"

I let him push me towards the changing rooms, even as I eye the pile of different colored shirts in my arms. "You want me to try _all_ of these on one by one? Didn't you already say that they were good colors? I thought that was the point of the whole holding them up against me thing."

"I'm double checking," he says without even a hint of sympathy. "Hey, you wanted my help so you've got it. Too late now; go swap shirts, Dick. Besides, gotta check the style and the size too. It's not _all_ about color, and if it doesn't fit right it's not gonna look good no matter how nice the color is on you. Go on."

I pout at him for another second, but his only reaction is a raised eyebrow and a pointed flick of his gaze towards the booth behind me. So I sigh and turn around, opening the door and slipping inside the narrow room. I hang up the shirts — the red one ends up in front — and then take a glance to make sure Jason can't see in before I pull the shirt I'm wearing up and over my head. A healing bruise on my right shoulder blade aches at the movement, and I bite my tongue and grimace as the other bruises sing counterpoint as I tense. It's nothing too bad, but I've been walking around with Jason for a while and the painkillers I grabbed before leaving aren't doing much.

It was just a few lucky hits from random gang members, and then that one over my shoulder blade which was Poison Ivy throwing me into a wall. That fight was _lots_ of fun, but we did get her in the end. She's back in Arkham for now.

I toss my shirt onto the useless little stool in the corner, taking a glance at myself in the mirror before I reach for the red shirt. I'm going to have to make sure and stay careful that Jason doesn't see me without any clothes; at the least the scars and bruises would freak him out, at the worst it could reveal me as Robin. I still have the faint lines across the back of my right shoulder from Selina's claws, back when she sliced me open to get me off of Jason. I haven't gotten anything scarring from her since, and Jason's never managed to score any real hits on me with his claws.

I pull the shirt on, making sure the collar is flipped down before I start to button it up. When it's done I turn back to the door, opening it as Jason requested. He steps forward almost immediately, tugging me a bit out of the doorway by my arms as he looks. I almost snort as he smooths down the fabric on my side, tugging here and there to pull all of it out, and then I can't hold it back as he grabs both sides of my waist and manhandles me into turning around so my back's to him.

"Hm," he hums, sounding both thoughtful and noncommittal. "Size is good; not my favorite color but it's still pretty good." I watch in the mirror I'm now facing as he edges enough to the side that his head peeks out from behind me. "You can wear this color, but others will be better, basically. It's a good style though; here, see these lines?"

I lift my arms a bit so I can follow the brush of his hands on either side of my waist, fingers tracing the line of my lower ribcage down to my hips. "Yes?" I say as a definite question.

His mouth curls into a smirk as he rolls his eyes. "Disaster," he mutters. "The point is that this shirt comes in a little bit at the waist, which for you is a good thing because so do _you_. To look good, you want to wear something that actually follows the lines of your body and doesn't just hang straight down. You're in good shape, moron. Show it off."

Which won't matter so much with more skintight things, but I won't tell Jason that's where his advice is going.

"Next one?" I ask, looking down at him. The small shove of his hand to the small of my back is really answer enough, and I flash him a grin as I slip back inside of the changing room.

"You know," Jason comments from the other side of the door, as I start to strip out of my current shirt, "usually you've got pretty decent outfits on when you're not in our school uniform. How do you manage that?"

I tug the second shirt on — green — and take another glance in the mirror as I button it up. It's a darker green than what's on the regular Robin suit; I think I like it better. "Alfred," I admit. "Usually by the time I'm up he's laid something out if I'm actually going somewhere; paparazzi and all that." Plus I'm usually still half asleep from the night before, and just shrugging into whatever Alfred's decided is a better idea than trying to function enough before breakfast to pick something myself. It's the same for parties, really.

I can hear the muffled snort of laughter, and manage to get the buttons done up in time that I can open the door again and give Jason — leaning to the left side of it — a playful shove in retaliation. He rocks sideways with the push, grinning, and then looks down as I step out and give a little spin to show off the shirt. The first thing his hands do are flip one side of the collar down, and then he tilts his head against the wall and lets the grin slide into a smile.

"There, that's a better color on you." He reaches out, straightening one side, and then meets my eyes again as he speaks with a teasing edge. "It's called turquoise, by the way. A darker shade of turquoise, though you could probably pull off lighter ones too. Next color."

I roll my eyes, but let him herd me back into the room. "This is so ridiculously complex," I complain, as I reach for the blue version of the shirt.

"Welcome to shopping for clothes that actually fit," is his answer. "I _will_ break you of just grabbing things off of the rack and assuming they're the right size. It's gonna happen."

"I'm just going to grow out of these," I point out, "and you're just going to grow out of your clothing too. Does it _really_ matter?"

" _Jesus_." I barely catch the muttered, exasperated word before his voice rises again. "What would you even wear if no one was there to manage you?" he wonders, and I wince since he can't see me.

Apparently, I wear things that everyone else thinks look ridiculous. Not exactly a point in my favor.

I push the door open again, and Jason's head turns to face me as I step out. I do another cursory spin, aiming a crooked grin at him. "I like patterns," I try and defend, as he looks at me. "Can't I figure something out when I stop growing and I'm actually stuck with the clothes I get? Do I have to figure this out right now?"

"Can't start too early," he teases, and then mimics my grin. "See? Now _that's_ the color you should be wearing. Goes with your eyes, and it makes them look brighter because the shirt is darker." He tilts his head back towards the changing room. "Take a look."

I turn to look, finding my reflection in the mirror at the back. "Huh," is all I can manage. I can see what he's talking about, sort of. "So, it's that simple?"

"More or less, yeah." Jason steps up next to me, meeting my gaze in the mirror with a crooked smile, and then reaching forward and grabbing my arm. "One little trick Selina told me about," he murmurs, as he starts folding my sleeve back. "Semi-formal shirts are good enough on their own, but they all get just a _little_ better when you roll the sleeves up to just under the elbow. Don't know why; it's just a thing." He finishes the one sleeve, and then lowers my arm back down and nudges me. I take the hint and move to roll up the other sleeve on my own.

"It's more practical anyway," I comment, and Jason snorts.

"Like you care about what's _practical_ , rich kid." It's teasing, and I look back up to meet his grin with my own. "Now if we could just get you a pair of pants that actually _fit_ your ass we might be getting somewhere."

I find myself laughing without even thinking about it, and a second later Jason joins me. I sling an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug as I close my eyes. He hugs me back, grip slightly painful against my bruises but I ignore it; the contact is more than enough reward to make up for it. I hold him until I can calm down the laughter, and then squeeze him once before letting go.

"Thanks, Jay," I say softly, with a smile.

He smiles back, equally soft and obviously happy. "No problem. It's a public service keeping you looking good, Dick." There's no hint of his former crush in his eyes, and I relax a touch at that realization. Maybe at least that part of my life has become simpler. "Go on," he prompts. "Next color, rich kid."


End file.
